Seems Like Only Yesterday
by Rustie73
Summary: 15 Years after graduation, Racetrack returns to Pulitzer Academy. Race and the boys reminisce with stories happy and tragic. [SLASH] RaceBlink, SpecsDutchy, JackDavid, Mush?, Spot?, and others. Rated M for Language, Violence and Sex.
1. The Return of Racetrack

**Disclaimer**:

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge, Disney owns them.

I am making no money from this story.

* * *

**Warning**:

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Adult Language.

* * *

**A/N: **Future chapters will bring the return of Blink, David, Jack, and more.

* * *

Chapter One - The Return of Racetrack

Tony stood on the steps in front of the old brick building staring at the sign above the entryway. "Pulitzer Academy," he whispered. "It's been a _long_ time." A sudden gust of wind and snow stung across his face taking his breath away. "Shit!" he sputtered as he wiped his face with the sleeve of his Armani overcoat.

The heavy metal door swung open and a young voice called from inside, "Hey! Are you Mr. Higgins?"

"Yea, that's me," Tony answered as he trudged inside.

"Sister Regina told us to meet you here," said the boy standing before him. "I'm Andy Koniski, and this is Gertrude Lions."

"My name is _Trudy_," the red-haired girl corrected as she scrunched up he nose and rolled her eyes at her companion. "Sister Regina said to tell you that she's been detained and that she will see you in the gym when her meeting is through."

Tony followed the couple across the hall into the gymnasium and smiled as he looked over their school uniforms. They reminded Tony of his sister and himself fifteen years earlier.

"Is it true that you used to go to this school back when you were young?" the boy asked.

"Yea, kid. . . . Back when I was young," Tony replied.

"Sorry we have to leave you here alone mister," the boy said, giving his classmate a shove toward the side door. "We've gotta get to our next class."

"Okay, thanks," Tony replied as the children disappeared through the grey metal door. He closed his eyes and listened until their laughter faded down the hallway. "Yea, back when I was young," he sighed.

Tony put down his suitcase and strolled across the old wooden floor. The gym looked just like it had the day he graduated. It was a sort of all-purpose room with a stage at one end, which allowed the room to double as an auditorium. Rows of bleachers ran the length of one wall, and a stack of folding tables leaned against the stage awaiting the next rummage or bake sale. The place even smelled the same. It was a sort of floor wax and old gym socks combination.

Tony stood in the center of the dimly lit room thinking back to when he was the boy wearing the navy school blazer and grey trousers. As he reminisced on his comings and goings in the old gym, he was startled by an all too familiar voice.

"Anthony Michael Higgins! . . . Just what do you think you are doing in here?" Immediately his body tensed, and the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention. Slowly, he turned to see Sister Mary Larkson, or as he used to call her, _Attila the Nun_. Sister Mary was the assistant principal at Pulitzer back when he was a student. He'd spent countless hours of detention under her watchful eye. Hers was a voice he could never forget.

Tony examined the woman's features, and somehow Attila didn't seem quite as menacing as he remembered. The grimace that once covered her face was replaced by a friendly and inviting smile, and the fiery red curls that once flowed from under the dark veil were now laced with silvery grey. She looks surprisingly "human," he thought.

Reaching out to shake his hand, Sister Mary's smile broadened. "Anthony, it's good to see you again. I'm sorry if I gave you a start."

Tony, now a bit off his guard, shook her hand and smiled uncomfortably. "That's okay, Sister. For a second I thought I was back in school and headed for another detention."

"You're safe now," she laughed. "I'm not in charge of detention these days. I am the principal, or at least I will be until the end of the semester when Pulitzer closes its doors and I retire. I'm going to hate to see the place shut-down," she said as her eyes took in their surroundings. "A lot of good has come out of this school through the years. Look at you for example. Here you are a successful investment banker. I would have voted you most likely to become a professional gambler."

"You were almost right," Tony chuckled feeling a bit more relaxed. "Being an investment banker is a form gambling except I don't bet on the races anymore. Now I bet on which investments will make the most money for the corporation."

"Well, it's good to see how well you turned out, Racetrack," she said, calling him by his childhood nickname. "I have to be going, but Sister Regina will be in shortly." Sister Mary marched across the room with her dark heels clicking against the hardwood floor, and then she disappeared through the door as he'd seen her do a hundred times before.

Tony walked about the cavernous room, and a surge of memories flooded his mind. He looked at the folding tables and remembered the time Spot Conlon had spiked the punch at the Spring Dance. That fiasco earned them all a bunch of sick hangovers and two weeks detention.

The basketball hoop with its torn net reminded him of the time Jack Kelly scored the winning basket and secured the district championship for Pulitzer. An abundance of sick hangovers came with that celebration as well.

Then Tony walked to the bleachers, and a painful chill ran through his body. That was a memory he had tried for years to forget. That was the one that gave him nightmares all through college and occasionally still awakened him in a cold sweat.

It seemed like only yesterday the he'd been staying after school to practice his jump shot. Jack, Dutchy, Mush, and his other friends had all been on the basketball team the previous season. Even Spot Conlon, who was not much taller than Tony, was on the team. Tony thought that if he practiced long enough and hard enough he could make up in skill what he lacked in height.

It was the end of his second week of practice when the gym door opened and in walked the Delancey brothers. They were the school bullies and had chosen Tony as their primary target that year. He'd just come to terms with the fact that he was gay, and somehow the Delanceys knew. He didn't know how they knew, but they did, and they took every opportunity to torture him about it.

Tony thought about running, but that wasn't his style. He wasn't about to let them know that he was afraid. Besides, it wouldn't do any good. He couldn't out run them both. He continued his practice and tried to look unaffected by their presence. One quick glance at their faces and Tony knew he was in for trouble. He cringed as the sound of their high-tops squeaking against the floorboards warned him they were near.

"Well, well . . . If it ain't Little Magic Johnson," Oscar snorted while his brother stood in front of Tony blocking his throw.

"That ain't a Magic Johnson," Morris smirked staring down at Tony. "_This_ is a Magic Johnson," he said while grabbing his own crotch and laughing.

Tony, having always been a smart-ass couldn't keep quiet. Gesturing down at Morris's crotch, he replied, "From what I hear what you got there is a Little Johnson, and there's nothing magic about it." The minute the words left his lips, Tony regretted the remark. _"Looks like I'm gonna get my ass kicked again,"_ the thought. But the Delanceys had more than a simple ass kicking in mind.

"I think the little fairy wants you to prove what you got in those pants," Oscar said to his brother.

Tony knew that he couldn't outfight them, so he decided to make a break for it. He threw the basketball as hard as he could at Morris's crotch then tried to run. Oscar threw Tony to the floor before he had taken his second step. "I guess the little _fagot_ wants to play rough," Morris said as he grinned at Tony.

When the Delanceys went to grab him, Tony began kicking and throwing punches. He was one hell of a fighter for a little guy, but he was no match for these two.

Oscar punched Tony hard in the stomach knocking the wind out of him and then dragged him under the bleachers and threw him against the cinder block wall. "You ready for a little magic, kid?" Morris laughed, looking down at Tony.

"Fuck you!" Tony growled as he gasped for air.

"Ya got that backwards, kid," Morris said as he slammed Tony's head against the hard wood bleachers.

The rest was a blur of pain, grunting, and humiliating laughter.

Sometime later, Tony was still lying on the floor under the bleachers. He wasn't sure for how long, but the Delanceys were gone. Blood trickled from Tony's nose and mouth, and a dizzying pain engulfed his scull from where his head hit the bleachers. When he tried to pick himself up, Tony realized that his shorts were down around his ankles. Slowly, his head began to clear, and he realized what had happened. More precisely, he remembered what the brothers had _both_ done to him. Tony stumbled to the locker room and barely made it to a stall before he began throwing up. He wasn't sure if it was sick from the beating or revulsion or from both. Tony continued to vomit until there was nothing left inside of him.

Tony stripped off his gym clothes and threw them into the trash, and then climbed into the shower and turned on the faucets. He watched the blood run down his chest as the hot water hit his skin. He scrubbed his body violently as though he could wash away the assault. As the hot steamy water engulfed him, Tony tried to clear his mind, but the horror of what happened kept creeping back. Each time the memories became clearer, and he'd retch even though there was nothing left in his stomach.

Eventually, he went to his gym locker and put on his school uniform. Tony hadn't the mind to dry himself and had thrown away his undershirt and shorts. Now, the heavy uniform fabric scratched at his skin as it clung to his wet and aching body.

Tony walked home in the cold night air with his hair still dripping from the shower. He went straight to his room that evening and didn't come out until the next morning.

Tony decided that he didn't want to play basketball after all.

Now, it was fifteen years later and Tony's body shook as if it all happened fifteen minutes ago.

Suddenly a sweet voice saved him from the terrible memory. "A penny for your thoughts," she said.

Tony turned around and saw Sister Regina standing in the center of the room. She was a small woman with a pretty and childlike face. She looked like a little girl playing dress up in her knee length black habit and veil.

"Sister Regina," he said softly as he crossed the room to greet her.

"What's this Sister Regina stuff?" she giggled. "I'm still Reggie to my big brother."

"I don't know," he grinned. "You don't look much like my baby sister in that getup." Tony threw his arms around Reggie and swung her around like he did when they were children.

"Thanks for coming, Tony," she said. "I really need your help. If anyone can make sense out of this financial double talk it's you."

End - Chapter One

Thanks for taking the time to read this story. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter was not beta'd. I hope that any rough spots you may have encountered did not detract from your reading pleasure. 


	2. The New Kid

**Disclaimer**:

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge, Disney owns them.

I am making no money from this story.

* * *

**Warning**:

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Adult Language.

* * *

Chapter Two - The New Kid

Tony quickly thumbed through the papers that Sister Reggie had given him. "Ya know, Sis, we'll need to have Chris take a look at this report. I can handle the financial end, but this legal jargon is way over my head."

"Where is Chris, anyway? I thought he was coming with you."

"He had to be in court today," Tony replied as he set up one of the folding tables. "He's planning to catch a flight after the session. If the weather holds out, he should be here late tonight. Did I tell you that they're talking about making him partner at the firm?

"Yes, Tony. You told me three times on the telephone last week. . . . Tony, what are you doing with that table?"

"Well, you don't expect me to sit on the floor while I check these figures, do you?"

"No, Brother Dear. I expect you to go into my office where it's nice and quiet."

"Look, Sis, I doubt you'll find anyplace more quite than this," Tony said, gesturing around the empty gymnasium. "And I really don't think that you want anyone to find out that I'm going over these figures. I'd rather do this on the Q/T for now. Just find me something to sit on and I'll be fine."

Sister Regina exited the room and quickly returned with a chair and a table lamp.

"Thanks," Tony said as he gently pushed is sister toward the door. "Now you go away for a couple of hours and let me do my job."

He retrieved his laptop from the suitcase and set it on the table. Working numbers came as easy to Tony as breathing, and before he knew it, he'd finished going over the report. It took a lot less time than he'd expected.

Tony looked at his watch and began to think about Chris. The Rolex was a present from him last Christmas. Tony removed the watch and smiled as he ran his thumb over the inscription.

_-T-_

_Now_

_and _

_Forever_

_-C-_

Tony took out his cell phone and saw that Chris had left him a message. "Hi, handsome," the message began. "I'm just finishing up, so I'll be heading out soon. I'll hop the next available flight, so I should be there sometime later tonight . . . Miss you."

A warm flush came over Tony as he listened to the sound of Chris' voice. "_I'm a lucky man,"_ he thought. After all these years, the sound of Chris' voice still excited him.

Tony's mind traveled back to when he first met Chris. It was during his junior year at Pulitzer.

* * *

Tony and some of his friends were in study hall playing cards when Attila the Nun entered with the most handsome boy Tony had ever seen. The boy had sandy blond hair and a captivating smile. There was an intriguing brown patch over his left eye, and the other was the most incredible shade of blue.

"Class!" Sister Mary called as she clapped her hands to get their attention. "I would like you all to meet Christopher Hunter. He is new to Pulitzer and to our town. I trust that you will make Christopher feel welcome."

Tony was thrilled when after confiscating his playing cards, Sister Mary asked him to show Chris around and introduce him to the other students. Tony and Chris had the same schedule so he was the obvious choice. After their science and English classes were through, they headed to the cafeteria for lunch.

"Hey, Race, how's it goin'?" the curly haired boy seated at their table asked.

"Not bad, Mush. Not bad at all . . . Okay, guys," Tony said to the rest of his friends. "I want you to meet Chris. He's new here and I'm showing him around."

"Race? Why do they call you Race?" Chris asked. "Do you run track or something?"

"Nah," Tony replied. "Race is short for Racetrack. 'Cause I like to bet on stuff."

"Yea," Mush snorted. "He'll bet on anything. Last week in confession the priest told Racetrack that he had to say two Our Fathers and three Hail Mary's as his penance. Race told the priest that he'd roll him for it double or nothing." Everyone, including Tony, laughed.

"We all have nicknames," Tony continued. "Mush there is really Michael. Danny here is called Specs. Over there is Giuseppe, but we all call him Itey. This here is David. He's The Walking Mouth, or Mouth for short. The three guys I was playing cards with are Jack, Sean, and Adam. Their nicknames are Cowboy, Spot, and Dutchy. I know that there are a lot of names to remember, but you'll get to know them all eventually."

"I guess if you're going to hang with us, you should have a nickname too," Mush suggested.

"Well, at my old school, my friends all called me Blink."

"Then, Blink it is," Racetrack said, slapping him on the back.

By the end of the day, Tony and Chris were becoming good friends.

After school, the two decided to take the long way home so Tony could show Chris around town. While they walked, Tony talked about his family, his friends, and what it was like to live in a town where everyone has known him since he was born.

Chris told Tony what it was like being the only child of divorced parents. He explained that his father was an all round prick who screwed every woman he could and who never kept the same job for more than a year. "I got a heck of a surprise on my birthday two years ago," Chris explained. "I had a party at our house, and all of my friends were there. I heard my mother screaming, so I ran upstairs to see what was wrong. That's when I saw my father in _my_ bed with my best friend's mother . . . Most of my friends saw it two."

Their lives couldn't have been more different, yet they had so much in common. They liked the same food and music. They watched the same television shows. They even had the same taste in sports. Well, except for baseball. Chris was a Yankees fan while Tony loved the Mets. They were having a great time together until they ran into the Delanceys.

"Well, look who we have here," Morris said to his brother. "It's none other than Magic Johnson himself. How'ya doin' kid? We ain't seen you around the gym lately."

"Fuck off!" Tony snapped.

Oscar grabbed Tony by the front of his shirt and lifted him so their faces met. "What's the matter kid? Got somethin' stuck up your ass?"

Chris grabbed Oscar's arm and tried to pull him away from Tony.

"Hey, Oscar," Morris snickered. "Looks like the little fagot went and found himself a girlfriend."

Morris laughed and turned his attention to Chris. "Guess you could say he caught your eye, ha kid?"

"Fuck you!" Chris shouted.

"Isn't that sweet?" Oscar said as he tightened his grip on Tony. "The one-eyed fagot is trying to protect his little girlfriend." Then with his other hand, Oscar reached for Chris, attempting to get him into a chokehold. To Oscar's surprise Chris elbowed him as hard as he could in the stomach. This caused Oscar to double over and let go of Tony, who then kicked Morris in the crotch and punched him square in the nose.

Tony and Chris took off running and didn't stop until they were sure they weren't being followed.

"What the hell was that about?" Chris asked breathlessly. "Who were those guys?"

"Those two charming individuals were Delancey brothers, Morris and Oscar. They're the town assholes and unfortunately, they go to our school."

"Well, what the fuck have they got against you?"

"I exist," Tony, answered coldly.

"If everybody calls you Racetrack, then why did that guy call you Magic Johnson?"

"Because he's an asshole, that's why."

Chris waited for an explanation, but Tony wasn't giving up any information.

"So that fagot stuff? What was that about?"

"What are you writing a fucking book or something?" Tony shouted.

"No, I'm not writing a fucking book! But I almost got my ass kicked back there, and I have a right to know why!"

"Because I'm gay you jackass! Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, I don't have a problem with that, asshole! Why? Do you have a problem with me being straight? What are you some kind of a heterophobe?"

Tony just stared at Chris. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

Tony started to chuckle, and so did Chris. Soon they were both laughing outright.

"Jackass," Chris sputtered.

"Asshole," Tony chuckled.

"Homo," Chris teased.

"Breeder," Tony laughed.

That did it. From then on, they were the best of friends.

The following summer was the best ever!

End - Chapter Two

Thanks for taking the time to read this story. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter was not beta'd. I hope that any rough spots you may have encountered did not detract from your reading pleasure. 


	3. Best Friends

**Disclaimer**:

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge, Disney owns them.

I am making no money from this story.

* * *

**Warning**: 

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Adult Language.

* * *

Chapter 3 - Best Friends 

The summer following their junior year was a great one. Oscar and Morris were caught breaking into a liquor store. As a result, they were ordered to spend two months at a youth boot-camp in New Mexico. For the first time since that day in the gym, Tony didn't feel like he had to keep looking over his shoulder.

Tony, Chris, and their friends all enrolled in the Youth Activity program at the school. They played sports, took day trips to amusement parks, and went on hiking and camping trips. Chris and Tony participated in every activity together. They were after all, best friends.

To mark the halfway point in the summer program, the counselors scheduled the annual Pulitzer Olympics. The events consisted of swimming, running, and silly field competitions such as a water balloon toss and sack race. Chris tried to get Tony to enter the three-legged race with him but Tony refused. It was difficult enough for Tony to keep his cool with Chris constantly touching him and wrestling around, but idea of them tied together in a hot sweaty race was out of the question.

Mush won the sack race, Chris won the swimming competition, Spot, Itey, and Dutchy won the relay race, and Tony won twenty-five dollars betting on them all.

It was turning out to be the best summer ever.

Chris had become quite popular with the girls in the youth program and dated quite a few. He took them to movies and parties or brought them along when he was just hanging out with his friends. Still, Chris always found time to be with his best friend, Tony.

Unfortunately, Tony felt more than friendship for Chris. He was in love with Chris, though he never let his feelings show.

During the day, it was easier for Tony to keep his mind occupied, but at night, he would lie in his bed and think about Chris. He would think about that beautiful blond hair which turned even lighter in the summer. He would think about Chris' smile and the way his lower lip pouted when the Yankees lost a game. He would think about the day Chris won the swimming competition, and how hot he looked in his swim trunks. The picture of Chris dripping wet with his skin tanned from the summer sun was one that he couldn't shake from his mind. When Tony thought about such things, his heart would pound, and his body would ache to be satisfied. Tony would have to fight the urge to relieve himself of this physical torture. Still, as hard as Tony tried, he often lost the fight.

Swim days were always the most fun for the youth group. The town pool was located directly across from the school, and for three hours every Tuesday and Thursday, the pool was reserved for the Pulitzer students. One afternoon, Tony and Chris were playing an enthusiastic game of keep-away with a counselor's gym bag. The end result was the fully clothed counselor and his belongings falling into the deep end of the pool. As punishment, Tony and Chris were sent back to the gym to take inventory of the school's sports equipment.

As they sorted, counted, and repacked the equipment, Tony noticed that Chris had become uncharacteristically quiet. He tried several times to lighten the mood and to joke around, but Chris didn't respond. Eventually, Tony gave up and concentrated on the equipment. Finally, after a long and brooding silence, Chris began to talk. "Race, can I ask you something personal?"

"I guess," he answered. "What do you want to know?"

Chris hesitated, trying to find the right words. He shifted nervously from one foot to the other and then blurted out, "How did you know that you were gay?"

Tony was surprised and a little uncomfortable with the question, and tried to joke his way through his embarrassment. "Well, one day I woke up and had a terrible urge to sing show tunes and watch Lifetime Television."

Chris was embarrassed and visibly annoyed. "Fine! Don't answer me!" he huffed and threw a duffel bag full of equipment into the storage locker.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Tony said. "I didn't mean to piss you off. It's just that in all the time we've been friends you never asked me anything like that . . . I'll answer your question, but first you have to tell me why you want to know."

"Well, um - - I've heard that some guys always knew they were different - - Like from the day they were born. Then there are other guys who don't realize they're different until later. Like when they start going out with girls. . . . You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, Blink. I do know what you mean, but you still didn't answer my question. Why now, after all this time, are you asking me how I knew I was gay?"

"Damn it, Race! You're not going to make this easy for me are you! You'd think a guy could ask his best friend about - - about something this important!" Chris leaned against the gym wall and slid down to the floor. He pulled his knees tight against his chest and then covered his face with his hands. Finally he blurted out, "It's me, okay! It's me. I've been thinking that something is wrong with me. I don't ask girls out, they ask me out. I go because that's what you're supposed to do. And when I kiss them, or if they try to kiss me, I don't like it. I have to force myself to do it. Then if they try to - - ya know - - do something more, I just can't stand it. It feels wrong."

Tony sat down on the floor next to his friend. "The best I can do is to tell you that you should never do anything you don't want to do. You're the only one who can decide what's right for you. But straight or gay if something feels wrong to you than you shouldn't do it."

The boys sat quietly for a while then Tony lifted himself off the floor and reached down to offer Chris a hand up. Chris smiled and took Tony's hand and pulled himself up, but he didn't let go.

"Race, I understand what you're saying about not doing what feels wrong. That makes sense, but does that mean - - Well, do you think that I should try to do something that feels right?"

"Blink, what are you asking me?"

Chris stared into Tony's eyes as if he were asking for help. He was visibly terrified and couldn't say the words out loud.

Tony raised his free arm to lean against the wall. He lightly brushed his lips across Chris' mouth. Then ever so gently, Tony kissed his best friend. A moment later, they stood frozen. Eyes locked and both afraid to speak.

Neither of them was sure who was more surprised when Chris pulled Tony closer and returned the kiss. A wave of pleasure rushed through Tony's body as Chris' tongue passed through his lips. Tony wove his fingers through Chris' hair. That beautiful blond hair that he'd wanted to touch since he'd first seen it. Tony's mouth traveled across Chris' face and down to his neck. Chris shuddered, and a sigh escaped his lips. This excited Tony even more. He bit down, and a loud groan of pleasure rolled from deep inside Chris' throat. Tony pressed Chris up against the wall, and their hips writhed as they felt each other grow with excitement.

Tony couldn't believe what was happening. _"This has got to be a dream," _he thought. Tony half expected to hear his mother calling to wake him up so that he wouldn't be late for school, but the voice he heard wasn't his mother. It was Chris. "I love you, Race," he whispered through the long awaited kisses.

Tony pulled back and stared at Chris. "Blink, please don't say that if you don't mean it. This is all too new, and you don't know what you're feeling."

"Damn-it, Race, I'm not stupid. For the longest time all I've wanted is be with you. I can't get to sleep at night because my head is filled with thoughts about you. You know? Thoughts about - - That I, um - - I mean that you and me . . ."

"Just say it, Blink."

Chris drew in a deep breath, and as he exhaled, the word stumbled out. "I think about you, Race. About you and me, you know? - - Damn-it! I think about touching you and about you touching me. I want to _be_ with you Race. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Tony understood completely. He took Chris by the hand and led him through the locker-room and all the way back to the last shower stall. "Blink, are you sure that you want to do this? You know that you don't have to."

"I'm sure, Race." Chris clenched his hands on either side of the stall and braced himself with an intensity that made Tony smile. "Damn, Blink! You look like you're about to be murdered. You're not going before a firing squad. It's a blow-job for crissake!"

They both laughed so hard that they almost fell out of the stall.

Now, with Chris being more relaxed, Tony brought him to a point of excitement that Chris didn't know was possible. Then with Tony's patient instructions, Chris gave Tony more pleasure than he had ever experienced.

When they were completely satisfied, they sat on the floor silently holding hands.

This felt right. It was right. They both knew it.

Years later, they would both refer to the "Firing Squad" as a means of relief in tense situations.

When Chris was about to present his first case, he stood outside the courtroom feeling as though he was going to be sick. Tony leaned over and whispered, "Damn-it, Chris. Will you relax? It's not like you're going before a firing squad."

"I know. But it's not like I'm getting a great blow-job from you either."

Needless to say, Chris won the case.

* * *

Now it was fifteen years later, and Tony was standing in the very same spot where Chris first told Tony that he loved him.

"Damn-it, Tony. You look like you're facing a firing squad instead of wanting to give me a blow-job."

Tony turned around and saw Chris and that smile he loved so much. His brown suede jacket and his ridiculously long scarf were speckled with snow.

"How the hell did you get her so fast? I didn't expect you to be here until late tonight."

"Libby pulled some strings and got me on an earlier flight. I thought I'd surprise you."

"Remind me to send that secretary of yours some flowers," Tony laughed.

Chris leaned against the wall and pulled Tony tight against him. "Enough talk," he said. "Let's make some new memories." They kissed as though it was their very first time.

"Ya see, Dave? Some things never change. We left them standing in that same spot fifteen years ago and look at them now. There still trying to suck each other's face off!"

"Jack? Dave? What the hell are you doing here?"

End – Chapter Three

Thanks for taking the time to read this story. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter was not beta'd. I hope that any rough spots you may have encountered did not detract from your reading pleasure. 


	4. Life is Good

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

* * *

I am making no money from this story. I seriously doubt the sanity of anyone who would pay money to read anything I have written.

* * *

**A/N** Sorry it took so long to post this chapter. I painted myself into a corner with the last one and had to do some tap-dancing to get myself back in line. Please R&R.

* * *

Thanks to '0' EmeraldEyes'0', pennaroyaltea, and Lady of Tir Na Nog for the reviews and suggestions. You are the Best! 

Special thanks to Lady of Tir Na Nog for the loan of "Irish," who will be introduced in the next chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Life is Good**

Tony and Chris couldn't believe their eyes. Jack Kelly and David Jacobs were standing right in front of them.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" Tony asked as the four exchanged handshakes and hugs.

"David and I wanted to come back for a visit, and I'm here to investigate a story."

"You? The world famous award winning independent journalist? The star of newsprint and magazines alike. What could you, Jack Kelly, possibly find to investigate in this sleepy little bedroom community of our youth?" asked Tony with a sarcastic grin.

"I got a couple of phone calls and this letter tipping me off that Pulitzer's closing isn't on the up-and-up."

Tony and Chris took a quick look at the letter. It alluded to fraud, payoffs, misappropriation of funds, and a multitude of other allegations.

"Where did this come from?" Chris asked.

"All I know is that the letter was mailed three weeks ago from the post office here in town. I received the last phone message about five days ago. It instructed me to come here to the Pulitzer gym before 5:00 p.m. today."

"David and I had been talking about coming back for a visit anyway, so we decided why not? Even if it was a joke we had nothing to lose."

"So why are you here? Have you been receiving any mystery messages of your own?" asked Jack.

"Nah. My sister, Reggie asked us to come and look over some financial and legal papers regarding the sale of this place . . . Hey, Jack. You don't think that it was Reggie who called, do you?"

"Not unless your little sister sounds like a fifty-year-old fat man from New York City."

"Fat? . . . Jack, how does someone sound fat?" David asked.

"What?"

"You said that the caller sounded like a fifty-year-old fat man. How do you know that the man is fat? Tell me, Jack. Exactly what does fat sound like?" David questioned with a teasing smile.

"Okay. I stand corrected," Jack laughed as he slid his arm around David's waist.

"You see fellas. This is why I have him proofread all of my articles. It pays to have a teacher in the family!" Then Jack whispered something into David's ear which caused him to blush bright red and burry a smile into Jack's neck.

"So, Race. What did you find out from the papers Reggie gave you?"

"Not much, Jack. I ran the numbers and everything seems to be okay, but . . . I don't know. I can't put my finger on it but something isn't right. I just haven't figured out what. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe I just want to help Reggie, and my subconscious is making me think something is wrong."

"What do you think, Chris? Did anything strike you as unusual on the legal end?"

"I haven't had a chance to look at anything yet. I arrived right before you. I was hoping to take care of some personnel business first, but your untimely arrival put an end to that idea."

"Still a horny little bastard aren't you, Blink?" Jack chuckled.

"Yes he is," Tony grinned as he put his arms around Chris. "Lucky Me!"

"Okay you two," laughed Jack. "Put those hormones in neutral, and lets take a look at those papers"

"You and Tony go ahead," Chris instructed. "I want to talk to David for a few minutes."

As they went to sit in the bleachers, David noticed the gold band on Chris' left hand.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" David asked.

"Yup. We did it. We got hitched in a civil ceremony last year. It's finally legal for us to buy towels that say HIS and HIS."

"That's great, Chris. Congratulations. I want to hear all the details."

"We didn't make a big deal out of it. It was just the two of us. We snuck off and took the leap. Then we rented a place by the ocean and had five wonderful days to ourselves."

"Well, Chris. It certainly does agree with you. You look very happy."

"I am happy, David. Nothing could make life better for Tony and me. The only thing I could possibly want would be seventy more years with Tony. Just the two of us. I know that sounds sappy but it's true. I am a very lucky man . . .So tell me, David. How's life been with that Cowboy of yours?"

"It's been great, Chris. Really great. We're complete opposites, but it works so well for us. Our personalities compliment each other. Who would have thought that Cowboy Jack Kelly and me, the Walking Mouth Jacobs, could be so happy. The only thing that could make us happier would be a child. It's what we both want. Obviously that isn't physically possible."

"Have you thought about adoption? Over the last several years it has become much easier for gays to adopt."

"We looked into it, but Jack's work takes him away from home so often, we were told that our chances of being considered were almost nonexistent. Unless one of us grows a uterus and starts sprouting eggs it's just not going to happen. It's a shame because there is still a lot of Cowboy in Jack. He's just an overgrown kid inside. He'd make a great dad."

"Hey!" Jack called from across the gym. "You two can compare notes on how great Race and I are later. Right now we need Blink to take a look at these papers."

"You better get over there, Chris. It sounds like Sherlock and Watson need your help. Don't worry about me. I brought plenty of my own work to keep me busy. We can talk later."

Now sitting alone in the bleachers, David opened his briefcase and thumbed through the large stack of paperwork inside. He stopped for a moment and looked around the old gym and smiled.

"I can hardly believe that it's been fifteen years," he sighed.

* * *

Just before the end of their junior year, Jack's advisor informed him that he needed to participate in an activity other than sports to increase his chances of getting a college scholarship. The advisor said that Jack should give it some thought over the summer. 

About half way through the summer vacation, Jack asked his friends what they thought he should try? There were plenty of ideas but Jack liked David's the best.

David was the editor of the school newspaper. He thought that Jack might make a good reporter.

David and Jack discussed what type of article would best serve the newspaper and still utilize Jacks talents. As usual, Jack had plenty of suggestions.

"I could write a column on who's screwing who at Pulitzer," was Jack's first suggestion.

"You can save that idea until you graduate and go to work for one of the supermarket tabloids," David replied.

"How about I do an in-depth study on which cheerleaders give the best head?"

"Hey! My sister is on that squad," David protested.

"Yea I know. Sarah's Hot! But sorry, Davey. There will be no favoritism. She'll have to prove herself to me just like everyone else."

"That's not funny, Jack."

"Yea it is, Davey. Lighten up already."

After suffering through what seemed like hours of Jack's lampoon-ish suggestions, David narrowed the choices down to two. He could either agree to make Jack the schools first sex advisor/gossip columnist, or utilize Jack's other talents and make him the school's sports reporter. David chose the latter.

Jack was assigned to cover the school's athletic events, interview the participants, and do general interest articles about sports.

They both agreed that if Jack were to be ready in September they would need to start right away.

David taught Jack how to research information, conduct an interview, and how to write an interesting article.

In turn, Jack taught David about sports and how to lighten up and have a good time.

They spent a good deal of time together both working on the project and just hanging out.

Jack's article was published the first week of school, and it received great reviews.

**Life was good.**

"Come on, Davey," Jack laughed as he caught David in a head lock. "Let's go celebrate and plan my next article. It's my treat!"

They picked up a couple of pizzas and brought them back to Jack's house.

David had to admit that the article was exceptional. "I can't believe you've never written anything before this, Jack. It really is good. You have a natural talent for journalism."

Jack got David in a head lock again. "It isn't going to work, Davey. You're just flattering me so I won't interview your sister for my 'Best Head' article."

Jack suddenly let go of David. Jack's face was hot and flushed red. He'd gotten an odd feeling deep inside when they were wrestling. It was a feeling he had never experienced before, and one that he was quite sure he shouldn't be enjoying.

They went back to discussing Jack's writing and ideas for his next assignment.

David was flipping through a notebook of scribbles that only he could decipher. Jack watched intently as David revealed each suggestion and comment he had compiled on Jack's behalf. Jack eyes followed David's hand as it brushed the stray curls from his forehead. He could feel his face getting hot as David ran his fingers through his thick dark curls. Then when David clenched the pen between his teeth, Jack's breathing became rapid and shallow. Jack couldn't concentrate on writing. All he could think about was David and the feeling he had when they tussled. He could still fell the sensation deep within his body.

Suddenly without thinking, Jack began to speak.

"So, Davey? You're gay, right?"

"What?"

"You're gay, right?"

"Yes I am. Why, Jack? Does that bother you?"

"Of course not. It doesn't effect me any. I was just wondering why I never see you hanging around with my cousin Spot. He's gay ya know?"

"First of all, being gay isn't like joining a club. We don't have meetings where we wear silly hats and have secret handshakes. And we don't automatically hang out together because we're gay. Just like there are straight people you don't hang out with."

"Second, Spot isn't gay, Jack. He's bisexual."

"It's the same thing isn't it?" Jack asked. (Of course Jack knew the difference between the two. After all, Spot had been living with Jack and his mother for the past seven years. But David was always so serious that Jack couldn't help teasing him just a little.)

"No, Jack. It's not the same. Bi means that Spot likes both boys and girls."

"Yeah. That sounds like Spot. He always did like to keep his options open. . . . So do you have a boyfriend Davey?"

"No, not at the moment. Why?"

Jack just shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh I get it. This is where you tell me you know some really nice gay guy that you want me to meet, and you're sure that we would be great together. Am I right, Jack?"

"Don't be so sarcastic, Davey. It just so happens that I do know someone who likes you. He is a nice guy too. He's really popular, and he's not bad looking either. You could do a lot worse you know!"

"Okay, Jack. Who is this Prince Charming you think I should meet?"

Jack didn't say a word. He just looked at David, then leaned over and kissed him.

"What are you doing, Jack? You're straight! . . . Aren't you?"

"Yea . . . I mean no . . . I don't know. I never thought about it before. I like girls, But lately since we've been spending so much time together I've been thinking about . . ."

Suddenly, Jack was overcome with embarrassment and fear.

"Just forget it, Dave. It was a mistake. Okay?"

But David couldn't forget it. He moved closer and kissed Jack. It was a long and deep kiss.

Jack stopped worrying about whether he was straight or not. The only thing that mattered was David. That David was kissing him and that he wanted David to kiss him.

**Life was very good.**

David and Jack didn't see much of their friends over the next several weeks. They spent all of their free time together. Everyone assumed that they were working on Jack's writing skills, but the skills they were utilizing had little to do with writing.

The thought of being with a boy had never occurred to Jack. Not until that first day with David. Now he wanted to be with David more than anything.

Jack had always chosen the role of aggressor in his relationships. Now he was eager to let David take the lead.

David was in awe of Jack's body. The years of physical training had made him strong and lean. The mere sight of Jack's smooth skin over his subtle, yet muscular frame made David's body ache. He longed to touch, to kiss, and to savor every part of Jack. He taught Jack how to please and to be pleasured. He somehow knew exactly what Jack wanted and what he needed. With David, Jack experienced pleasure that could be described as nothing less than ecstasy.

Jack was amazed to learn how incredibly sensitive David's body was to his touch. He delighted in knowing that by kissing David in a certain spot, or in a particular way, he could make David moan and shudder uncontrollably. Jack longed to experience every inch of David's body.

They explored each other thoroughly and easily. Together, they discovered a passion that was uniquely their own. One tailored to their specific needs and desires.

Jack wanted and needed David. For the first time in his life, Jack felt complete.

They were an odd couple, but it suited them. The were like two pieces of the same puzzle. Completely different, yet they fit perfectly together.

**Life was incredibly good.**

David gave Jack the assignment of interviewing Itey's older brother Giovanni "Skittery" Callo. He had been Pulitzer's basketball captain two years ago. Skittery was now in his second year at college. He was the first of the Callo family ever to attend college.

Jack asked Skittery all of the questions that David had prepared. The who, what, when, where, and why of a proper interview.

When they were through, Skittery said that he wanted to speak with Jack off the record.

"Look, Jack," he said. "I have to be honest with you. I heard around town that you switched teams . . . That you've gone gay."

Jack felt the rug pull out from under him. He and David had been so careful. They didn't think that anyone knew.

"Before you get pissed off, you should know that I didn't hear it from Itey. I asked him and he said that it was a lie. I don't care if it's true or not. The only reason that I'm bringing it up is that it could ruin your chance at getting that scholarship you want."

Jack's heart started to pound and he began to sweat. He was struggling to fight off the panic that was taking him over.

"I've seen it happen. These schools want to protect the image of the all American boy. Any hint of your liking guys is bad for that image. They want someone they can show off to the alumni. Last year, there was a rumor about one of the football players. Before the guy could even defend himself, his scholarship was revoked. They came up with an excuse that had nothing to do with his sexual preference. It didn't matter that it wasn't true. The guy was gone before he knew what hit him."

Jack didn't know if he wanted to deny the rumors or to defend himself. It didn't matter much either way because he was too shocked to speak.

"I like you kid. You are one of my brother's best friends. I just wanted to warn you ahead of time. They won't care if it's true, so you have to protect yourself. If you want that money you're gonna have to play their game. You need to be seen as the hard-hitting ass grabber they want."

Jack left the Callo's home in a panic. All he ever wanted was to go to college. Without a scholarship it would be impossible. Jack's mother had a hard enough time paying the bills. Even with Jack and Spot working part time jobs there was little money for extras, let alone pay for college.

Jack started to run. He needed to get to the safety of his own home. He wanted to lock himself inside his room where he could think.

As he rounded the corner and tore across his front lawn, Jack saw David sitting on the front steps.

"Hi, Jack. How did the interview go?"

Jack avoided looking directly at David and fumbled for his keys.

"Good, Davey. It went really good."

As Jack pushed through the front door, David automatically followed him inside.

"I couldn't wait until tonight to find out. With all of us going to the dance together, I was afraid that we wouldn't get a chance to talk about it. . . . Come on Jack. Tell me. How did it feel to do your first interview? Did Skittery give you the information you need?"

"Yea, Dave. He answered all of your questions. He threw in some extra information too. Stuff like how he heard that I've switched teams and how it's all over town that I've gone fag."

David felt his knees go weak. "No . . . No, Jack.That's impossible. We've been very careful."

"Well I guess we weren't careful enough, Davey," Jack hissed as he threw his notebook on the table. "Skittery also informed me that Ican kiss-off any chance of getting a scholarship. It seems that the big money guys don't want sissies representing their schools."

"No, Jack. Skittery is wrong. That's discrimination and it's illegal. The schools would lose their funding if they were caught doing something like that."

"Grow up, Davey. It happens all the time. Skittery told me about this one guy who lost his scholarship over a rumor that wasn't even true. They just found some other reason to get rid of him."

The silence in the room was deafening as Jack stared at the blank wall.

Finally, Jack turned to face David. "You know that I can't take that risk, don't you?"

David felt a sudden tightness in his chest. "Jack, what are you saying?"

"Look, Davey. This has been nice and all, but I got my future to think of. I need that scholarship. There is no way I can go to college without it. They'll be a thousand guys applying for the same money. A lot of them with grades better than mine . . . No school is going to give a basketball scholarship to a fairy. They want jocks that they can show off at alumni dinners. The type of guy who throws frat parties, and dates cheerleaders . . . That's just the way life is, Davey. I have to start thinking about myself."

David was crushed. Being with Jack was the most important thing in his life. Jack had become his world. David thought that Jack felt the same way about him.

"That's fine!" David shouted. "Go do what you have to do. Pretend to be something that you're not, because I don't need you! . . . I don't need you!"

David walked away without looking back.

Jack feltlike he wasgoing to be sick. He hated himself for what he had done to David and for what he was doing to himself. He wanted to run after David. To apologize and tell him everything would stay the same between them but he couldn't.

Jack needed that scholarship. He was going to college, and nothing was going to stop him.

**Life isn't always good. Sometimes it really sucks.**

* * *

End Chapter 4

Please Read and Review


	5. The Dance

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog. Lady of T.T.N. has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

I am making no money from this story. I seriously doubt the sanity of anyone who would pay money to read anything I have written.

**CHAPTER 5 - THE DANCE**

"I've got it!" Chris shouted as he slammed his hand down on the financial report.

"You were right, Tony! You said that something was missing and there it is!"

"Chris, you found something?" Sister Reggie asked excitedly. "What is it? What did you find?"

"Tony was right. It's right there in black and white."

"What's there?" asked Tony.

"You see the section of the financial report that shows the yearly expenditures for retirement pensions?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, the papers you have only show a total of the amount expensed. It doesn't give a breakdown on how the money was disbursed. But if you look over here this list shows the recipients with the corresponding amounts."

"So what are you getting at, Chris?"

"Look, Tony! Look at the names and the amounts!" Chris said grinning from ear to ear.

Tony took the paper from Chris. His eyes darted as the scanned the information. It was obvious that he was calculating the figures in his head. Then his eyes widened, and the old Racetrack smirk covered his face.

"Well fuck me!" Tony shouted.

"Tony! I have already asked you to watch your language."

"Yes, Sister Regina," Tony mocked as he rolled his eyes.

"Will one of you please explain what you are talking about?" David requested.

"Sorry," Tony said.

"Okay, Sis. Brian Denton retired two years ago in August, right?"

"Yes. That's right."

"Then Mr. Wiesel retired last June, right?"

"Yes, Tony, he did. Now what are you trying to say?"

"Well, you tell me. Since when does the school's janitor receive triple the pension of the school's administrator? Denton was here for thirty years, first as a teacher, then as part of the administrative staff. Old Weasel spent twenty years emptying trash cans."

"Well I'll be a son of a bitch!" Jack remarked as he compared the papers. "Oh . . . Sorry Reggie," he added.

"David, take a look at this. You have the same job back home that Denton had when he retired. Does this look right to you?"

David took a quick look and shook his head. "I don't see how someone with Denton's experience could be receiving less of a pension than the janitor," David concluded. "But I can't be sure by looking at this. I will need to see Denton's contract with the school and Mr. Wiesel's personnel file."

"Okay, Reggie. We need you to get us those files," Jack instructed.

"I can't do that. Those files are confidential."

"Look, Reggie. You're the one who asked me for help," Tony snapped. "I didn't come all the way out here just so you can change your mind."

"Reggie's right, Tony. There could be a lot of legal crap that we don't know about. The least of which could be Reggie getting fired. Right, Chris?" Jack asked.

"I'm not hearing any of this," Chris answered as he turned to look at Tony.

"Oh, I get it," Jack declared. "You mean that you can't advise us to do something that is illegal. Is that right ,Chris?"

"That's right. I can't hear any of this because I am looking into the eyes of the man I love which renders me unable to comprehend your conversation."

"Okay then," Jack continued. "It shouldn't be illegal for Reggie to take a look at the files, right?"

"That's right. I am blinded by Tony's handsomeness, and therefore I am unable to see or hear anything other than him."

"I'll take that as a yes" Jack grumbled. "Okay, Reggie. This is what you need to find out."

At this point, Chris put his fingers in his ears, closed his eye, and began to sing, "la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, . . ."

"Okay," Reggie agreed. "But it could take a while. In the meantime I've ordered in some refreshments. You'll need something to tide you over until supper."

Tony pulled out his wallet to give Reggie some money to pay for the food.

"la, la, la . . . "

"That's okay, Tony. It's all been taken care of."

"la, la, la, la . . . "

"What? Did the Pope give you a raise or something?" Tony asked.

"la, la, la, la, la, . . . "

"No. Brother Joseph took care of it."

"la . . . "

"Who the hell . . . Sorry. Who the heck is Brother Joseph?"

"la, la, la, la . . ."

"He's the new Dean of Students. It was his idea to have these records checked in the first place," Reggie answered as she left the gym.

Tony, David, and Jack stood watching Chris. He was shut off from the world with his fingers in his ears and still singing "la, la, la, . . ."

Tony reached to shake Chris, but Jack stopped him.

"Tony wait! Let's see how long he will go on before he notices we're watching him."

"Nah. Take it from me. After fifteen years, I guarantee _he can still go on all night_!"

"Ewwww," David laughed. "That is definitely more than we needed to know."

Finally, Tony got Chris attention and the singing stopped.

"You're a genius," Tony said.

"No, you're a genius," Chris corrected.

"You did it," Tony added.

"No you did it," Chris insisted.

"I wish we were doing it," Tony laughed

"I think we should be doing it," Chris agreed.

Tony whispered something into Chris' ear then turned back to David and Jack.

"You'll have to excuse us for a while," he said. "Chris and I need to do some investigating of a more personal nature."

"I'll race you to the last shower stall in the back of the locker room!" Chris shouted as he took off running. Then he disappeared through the locker room door with Tony in close pursuit.

"Some things never change," Jack laughed as he took David by the hand and lead him back to the bleachers.

"What have you been doing to keep yourself busy all this time?" Jack asked.

"Oh, I've just been thinking and remembering," David smiled.

Jack sat behind David and started to massage his neck and shoulders.

"What were you thinking about? . . . Me I hope?"

"As a matter of fact I was," David replied as he leaned back for a kiss. "I was thinking about the fall dance in our senior year. Do you remember? It was the day you interviewed Skittery for the school paper."

Jack leaned forward and rested his head on David's shoulder. "How could I forget?" Jack asked. Then he turned his head and gave David a kiss on the neck.

As usual all of the boys met up outside the school.

Since their first dance in the sixth grade they had chosen to arrive in a group. Back then it was because the thought of attending a boy/girl dance was terrifying ( and a bit icky as well). They had all agreed that there would be safety in numbers.

Now they were seniors. They were at the top of the high school feeding chain. Going to a dance as a group was no longer a defensive strategy. It had simply become a tradition.

Tonight there were two girls in the group as well. Reggie Higgins, who was Itey's date for the dance, and Saiorse Callan, whose nickname was Irish.

_Irish had been an unofficial member of the group since ninth grade. _

_Saiorse's family had just arrived from Belfast Ireland and enrolled her in Pulitzer. _

_On the first day of classes, Jack heard Saiorse speaking, and began to mimic her accent._

_Saiorse, whipped around, and began to pummel him into the ground._

_Jack wasn't about to hit a girl, so he tried to block her punches, while he hollered, "Get the fuck off'a me you crazy bitch!"_

_"Sod off ya fecker," was her reply._

_Sister Mary separated them, then escorted them both to her office._

_After giving them her famous Attila the Nun glare, she asked, "Would one of you kindly tell me what that was all about?"_

_Saiorse chimed in first. "Your man Cowboy acted the maggot, so I clattered the minger."_

"_All right, young lady. Would you like to try answering me in English?" Sister Mary asked._

"_That was English," Saiorse replied._

"_No Saiorse. What I mean to say is that you should speak to me in proper English."_

"_Jack. Would you like to tell me what happened?"_

"_Well, I was just joking with the kid and she got pissed. I wouldn't hit a girl, so I had to stand there like a jerk while this one beat the snot out of me!"_

"_You need to begin speaking in proper English as well, Jack," Sister Mary scolded._

_Then Sister Mary proceeded to give one of her world famous speeches, about the proper behavior for young ladies and gentlemen._

_Somewhere, in the middle of their lecture both Saiorse and Jack began to chuckle. By the end of the speech they were both fighting back full blown laughter._

_That earned them both two-weeks of detention with Attila the Nun._

_Instantly, Jack and Saiorse became friends._

_It was Jack who gave her the nickname. _

_Irish had always been one of the guys. She played football and basketball as well as any of them. Irish was never afraid to get dirty, and often participated in a game of hoops after lunch. This was a habit which earned her many hours in Sister Mary's office, where she would again be lectured on the behavior of a proper young lady._

_Since their return to school senior year, Irish's presence had caused quite a stir within the male population of Pulitzer. _

_As always, Irish had spent her summer vacation back in Ireland, visiting with her two brothers and their families. While she was away, it seemed that nature had taken its course and turned Irish from a gangly tomboy into a quite attractive young woman. _

_Irish still shot hoops with the guys, but there seemed to be a lot more boys standing around watching. Somehow the sight of Irish making jump shots in her short uniform skirt, made the game a great deal more interesting. This was sure to earn her more lecture time with Sister Mary._

All of the boys were gathered outside the dance except David, Dutchy and Specs.

Jack and David had split-up just hours before. Jack was sure that David wouldn't be coming, so he told their friends that David had made other plans.

As for Specs and Dutchy, It wasn't unusual for them to miss a dance. They always did enjoy each others company more than anyone else's. For as long as anyone could remember, they were a couple. Even they couldn't remember a time when they weren't together.

As they headed for the entrance, Itey (being the prefect gentlemen) offered his arm to Reggie who gladly accepted it.

Jack laughed and offered his arm to Irish who playfully accepted the offer.

"Hey, wait-up you guys" someone called from behind.

It was David.

"Hey Davey" Mush called back. "Jack said that you wouldn't be coming."

David looked over and saw Jack arm-in-arm with Irish.

David's eyes, which were normally a soft blue, seemed a cold steely-grey as they shot daggers at Jack.

"Honestly, Jack" David said in a mocking tone. "I don't know what made you think that I wouldn't be here tonight? Wild horses couldn't have kept me away!"

David pushed past Jack to go inside. As he did, David gestured at Irish's arm through Jack's and whispered, "Gee Cowboy, I see it didn't take you too long to bounce back. It's only been about five hours. That must be some sort of a world record."

Jack was mortified.

In hurting David, he succeeded in losing his lover, his best friend, and an important part of himself. Still, Jack was convinced that he had done the right thing, but that didn't make him feel any better. It was too late to go back now. Jack still had his future to think of. He was determined to work the room and become the quintessential jock.

Itey and Reggie spent most of the evening trying to keep out of Tony's line of sight. As Reggie's older brother, Tony saw it as his solemn duty to protect her from all the sex craved maniacs of the world. Poor Itey had crossed the line into "manicadom" when he invited Regie to the dance.

Each time Itey tried to hold Reggie's hand or dance a little too close, Racetrack was there vehemently protecting his sister's virtue.

Irish's new popularity had taken over, and she was flooded with invitations to dance. She however, chose to share most of her dances with Snoddy Morrison. They had played many a football game together, but the contact they were now having was a great deal more enjoyable.

While the others were dancing, Spot and Mush spent most of their time up in the bleachers making fun of everyone else.

Jack was in great demand. Most of the single girls flocked around him. He played the game well and reveled in the attention. He was like a kid in a candy store. He was going to look them over carefully and maybe even sample a few before he settled on one flavor.

David was also working the room.

Much to everyone's surprise (including his own) David was the life of the party. He was laughing, dancing, and telling jokes. The football team and cheerleaders actually invited him to sit with them. This was an honor seldom given to an average person such as David.

In reality, Jack and David spent most of their time watching each other while trying not to look like they were watching each other. They were both having a miserable time.

Blink was also receiving attention from the girls but he wasn't interested. He had already made his choice. He was there with Tony, and they were happier than either had ever been. They were perfect together.

Still, nobody knew that they were a couple. This was 1989. A suburban high school in a working class town was not the best place for a same gender couple in love. There was no way that Chris and Tony could date openly.

_It was different for Specs and Dutchy. They'd been holding hands since nursery school. They didn't even seem to be two separate people. Everyone looked at them as a sort of a Specs/Dutchy being. Nobody questioned it. That's just the way it was._

The evening wore on, and the end of the dance drew near.

Jack had sampled most of the flavors and had chosen his girl for the night.

Itey was trying to dance with Reggie in the far corner where he hoped that Tony couldn't see them

Irish and Snoddy were clumsily trying to bridge the gap between football buddies and girl and boy.

And Spot, and Mush were attempting to relieve their boredom, by playing rock/paper/scissors.

With all the drama surrounding them, Chris and Tony were truly enjoying their first school dance together. But Tony didn't want the night to end, without having one dance with his boyfriend.

When they were quite sure that nobody was watching, they slipped behind the heavy brocade curtain up on the stage.

The stage was black as pitch. Chris froze in his steps, and in a reflex action, raised his arm to shield his face. He had a constant fear of injuring his good eye, which could render him totally blind.

Tony understood, and put his arm around Chris to guide him. "Don't worry" he said in a comforting tone. "You know that I'd never let anything hurt you."

Tony put his arms around Chris. Then alone in the dark, they danced their first dance to "Can't Fight This Feeling" by REO Speedwagon. They would always consider that to be their special song.

It was to become one of Itey's favorites as well. It was to this song that Itey and Reggie had their first dance, unmolested by her overprotective brother.

When the dance was over and everyone was walking toward the exit, they saw Morris and Oscar were standing on either side of the door.

"They're back," Tony grumbled. "I knew this night was too good to be true."

Being their usual selves, the Delanceys were taunting the students as they tried to leave.

Irish and Snoddy (who were now holding hands) were the first of the group to attempt an exit.

"Hey, Snoddy," Oscar mocked. "What are you plannin' to do with her? Arm wrestle?"

Before Snoddy could open his mouth, Irish was in Oscar's face. "Well, I beat you two outa t'ree times, didn't I? Ya feckin' eejit!"

Snoddy laughed with delight as he turned to the group and announced, "I love this girl!" Then he put his arm around Irish and they proceeded out the door.

Tony's eyes were fixed on the Delanceys. His jaw tightened and his shoulder's tensed. Chris gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

"Here comes the fagot patrol," Oscar laughed.

The words sent a surge of rage through Chris' body. He knew what the Delanceys had done to Tony. They could easily have killed Chris, yet he wanted nothing better than a chance to take them apart.

"Look, fellas," Chris announced. "The jailbirds are back. What did you do? Stage a breakout or something?"

Morris took a step froward and Tony quickly pulled Chris back behind him.

Tony glared at them with an enormous grin. "You're doing a fine job boys," he mocked. "Did you learn that stance while you were working as ushers in the prison movies? It's good to know that you have a trade to fall back on when you flunk out of high school. I hear that they're always looking for ushers over at the Multi-Plex."

"We weren't in no prison," Oscar snapped.

"It wasn't a Boy Scout camp either," Tony replied.

"Oh come on, Tony," Jack scoffed. "You know the Delanceys received a bum rap. They didn't brake into that liquor store. Oscar here was merely walking in his sleep and took a wrong turn on his way to the bathroom. Morris went along with him because everyone knows that Oscar can't take a piss without his brothers help."

"Good one, Jackie-boy," Spot laughed as he moved to the front of the group. Then he boldly sauntered out the door.

Then David made an attempt to leave.

"Where do you think you're going fagot?" Morris growled. "Nobody gave you permission to leave."

It was at this point that David proved why he was given the name, "The Walking Mouth."

"You know Morris," David said calmly "It seems to me that you and your brother are preoccupied with this whole gay thing."

"Whadda you mean?"

"Well for instance, almost every time you speak you mention being gay. It's either fagot this or sissy that. It's as though the idea of being gay is always on your minds."

Muffled laughter was now escaping the group

"And then there's the fact that you are constantly hanging around us. It seems as though you enjoy our company."

"Yea, well we don't enjoy nothin'," Morris barked as he gave David a push.

"And that's another thing," David continued. "You are constantly touching us like you did just now. Hardly a week goes by when you're not trying to get your hands on at least one of us . . . Especially when you can get us alone."

Now everyone was laughing out loud, and Jack was feeling quite proud of David.

"I ain't no fag!" Oscar shouted.

"Ah," said David. "I think the Lady doth protest too much."

"Who are you callin' a Lady?" Oscar snapped With that, he grabbed David by the shirt and slammed him against the door frame. The force of the blow left David breathless.

Instantly Jack was there grabbing Oscar with one hand and pushing David away with the other.

Oscar could hear Racetrack's voice from the background. "You shouldn't do that," he said. " It's not healthy."

Jack's face was red with anger as his heart pounded in his chest. "Don't you ever touch him again!" Jack hissed.

"Oh isn't that sweet" Oscar jeered. "You came to his rescue . . . What is he? Your boyfriend or something?"

"So what if he is?" Jack said with his face only inches away from Oscar's.

"Hey! Did you hear that everybody?" Oscar shouted. "Jackie-boy just admitted it. He _is_ a fag!"

"So what if I am? . . . What are you gonna do about it?"

Oscar took swing at Jack, who ducked and came back with a hard right to Oscar's jaw. Then Jack threw Oscar over the railing and into the bushes.

Jack grabbed Morris by the shirt-front and pulled him close. "If I hear that you or your brother ever lay a hand on Davey again, I'm gonna fuckin' kill you." Then Jack head-butted Morris and threw him against the railing.

When Morris' head cleared, he helped Oscar to his feet and the two ran away with Morris shouting, "You haven't heard the end of this, Cowboy."

Jack quickly turned to David. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Jack. And I didn't need your help," David said indignantly.

"Excuse Me?"

"I said that I didn't need your help. You're not my mother. I can take care of myself."

"You were just about to get your ass kicked, David."

"So what if I was?" David replied as he headed down the stairs.

"Look, Davey. Do you know how many of our friends those two have hurt? Do you have any idea what they would do to you if they got you alone?"

"What's it to you?" David challenged as he locked eyes with Jack.

"All right!" said Spot as he sat down on the stairs to get comfortable. "Now dis is what I call entertainment!"

"What's it to me? Come on, Davey. I just came out in front of the whole school for you. What more do you want!"

Tony turned to the girl that was to be Jacks companion for the night. "Sorry," he said. "It looks like Jackie-boy is going to be busy with other things tonight."

"I don't want anything from you, Jack. And don't say that you came out for me because you didn't. You made it perfectly clear this afternoon that you had to start thinking about yourself. Everything is always about you. The only one you care about is Jack Kelly."

"You're right, Dave," Jack said as he held onto David's arm. "I didn't do it for you. I did it for us. For both of us."

"So what am I supposed to do, Jack? Should I just forget about this afternoon? Forget how fast you were willing to give me up?"

"No, Dave. I don't expect you to forget. But I do want you to try to forgive me. I was wrong. I know that, but I just got scared, that's all . . . David, you know how I feel about you."

"No, Jack. I don't know. How do you feel about me?"

Jack looked at the small crowd that had gathered around them.

"You're not going to make me say it in front of everyone, are you?"

"I'm not going to make you do anything, Jack. The choice is yours."

They stood silently with their eyes locked. Then Jack pulled David close and kissed him right there in front of everyone.

The crowd was now laughing and whistling.

When their lips finally parted, David whispered, "I love you too, Jack."

Jack put his arm around David, and they headed back toward Jack's house for some private time.

David was happy to be back with Jack, however, Jack had behaved like a first class jackass. David couldn't resist the opportunity to needle him just a bit.

"So what was that head-butting stuff about, Jack?"

"Don't start with me, Davey."

"Seriously, Jack. Why would you do something so stupid?"

"Don't push it, Davey."

"I warned you before about that, Jack."

"Are you trying to piss me off, Davey?"

"Jack, you're going to do that one too many times and make yourself simple."

"Davey . . ."

"It's the truth, Jack. You'll become feeble and end up sitting around in your own drool with nobody to take care of you but me."

"Davey . . ."

"That's it! That's why you act so crazy, Jack. You've done it too many times and it's damaged your brain."

"Davey . . ."

"Honestly, Jack you - -"

"Davey?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"Davey?"

"Yes, Jack?"

Oh, Daveyyyy?

. . . "Oh Yes Jack!"

"Yup,"Spot grinned. "It's like I said . . . Dat's entertainment. It don't get no better then this!"

**END CHAPTER 5**

**A/N:** I know that the head-butting bit was a little corny, but I just couldn't resist. Besides, I think David was deserving of a little revenge.

Next Chapter: Tony and Chris and the next level.

Special thanks to:

**Lady of Tir Na Nog**: Thanks for all the help, and for graciously loaning Irish to this story. I hope I did her justice.

**Garen Ruy Maxwell: **(Who's character Whistler is one of my favorites.) Thanks for taking the time to review this story.

**pennaroyaltea** Thanks for the fabulous live review. I think reading your review, was more fun, than reading my story!

'**'0''EmeraldEyes''0''** (Who is an expert on the New Yawk accent.) Thanks for the reviews, and for the feedback. It is a great help.


	6. The Next Level

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

* * *

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

* * *

I am making no money from this story. I seriously doubt the sanity of anyone who would pay money to read anything I have written.

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.

* * *

**Chapter 6 - The Next Level**

The fall dance had been interesting to say the least. Jack and David had a particularly eventful evening. Rather than go out for pizza with the others, the two decided to go back to Jack' house. They both felt that they needed some time alone.

Itey and Reggie decided to leave as well. They had spent little enough time alone that evening. Tony had made sure of that. He'd been acting like a deranged super hero who'd sworn to protect innocent maidens from evil little Italian boys.

Itey decided that they could at least spend a few minutes together while they were walking home. Unfortunately for Itey, he was to nervous to enjoy his time with Reggie. He kept looking over his shoulder and waiting for Tony to jump out of the bushes and yell, "Get your hands off my sister!"

The rest of the group went over to Tibbini's Restaurant.

Mr. Tibbini was Tony's father's closest friend. All of their family celebrations were held at his restaurant.

Mr. Tibbini agreed to let them inside only if Tony promised to refrain from dancing on the tables.

It seemed that ever since Tony was a little boy, his father would lift him onto one of the tables and have him dance for the crowd. Every birthday, anniversary, communion, and conformation, Tony was expected to dance. Old habits were hard to break.

Once inside the conversation covered a wide range of topics including the school dance, the Yankees v/s the Mets, and who would make the better-looking couple, Jack and David, or Jack and Sarah. Of corse, Jack and David won, hands down.

Snoddy didn't hear much of the conversation. He was in awe of Irish. He'd seen her almost every day for the past three years. But now, she seemed different. It was like he was seeing her for the first time.

Her accent, her straight brown hair, and her violet blue eyes were all the same, yet now they were more vibrant and exciting. Snoddy used to think it was weird that one of Irish's eyes was almost purple. Now he found it incredibly hot!

Spot and Mush kept everyone entertained with their unique outlooks on the universe.

Theirs was a strange friendship. Spot was a smart mouth, hard ass realist, and Mush was trusting, wide eyed and innocent. They were polar opposites. They fought like sworn enemies both with words and fists, yet they trusted each other without question. As different as Spot and Mush were, they had one obvious thing in common. They were both extremely funny. Everyone found them great fun to watch. It was like getting free tickets to a comedy club.

Chris and Tony had a great time. They even managed to hold hands while everyone was too busy laughing to notice.

When they said their goodnights and went their separate ways, Tony and Chris headed back to Chris' house. Mrs. Hunter was away on a business trip and Tony was spending the weekend.

Originally, Mrs. Hunter had planned to take Chris along but he vehemently objected. After two days of arguing, screaming, and compromising, Mrs. Hunter agreed to let Chris stay at home if he had a friend stay with him. Chris volunteered Tony. Her instructions were clear. They were not to have any parties and were not to invite anyone over while she was gone.

Mrs. Hunter was oblivious to her son's sexual preference. She had not idea that Chris and Tony were a couple. Chris had considered telling his mother that he was gay, but after giving it careful consideration he decided that neither he nor his mother was ready for that.

Now that they were alone in the house, Tony and Chris both felt a little clumsy and awkward. They had been close friends for about a year, and had been together sexually for two months. But this was different. This wasn't a few stolen moments when they when sure that nobody was looking. It wasn't the short time they had alone in Tony's father's car in the back row of the drive in a movie. This was two days, and nights alone in Chris' house.

"Is something wrong?" Chris asked.

"Nah. Just noticed how quiet it is around here. It's not like my house at all."

"Yea," said Chris. "That's what I like about your place. Your parents are so - -"

"SHIT! My parents. I promised that I'd call as soon as we got home."

Tony's father's instructions were also very clear. Tony could stay with Chris as long as he called to let his parents know of their whereabouts. He didn't mind having to check in at home. It was a small price to pay for a weekend alone with Chris. Besides, Tony wanted to make sure that the Itey (or as Tony now called him the Sex Craved Maniac) had brought his sister back safe and sound.

Tony spoke briefly with his father. When Mr. Higgins was convinced that Tony and Chris were fine and Tony was convinced that Reggie was fine they said goodnight.

Tony wandered into the livingroom to sit on the couch and thumb through the TV channel guide.

"I've got a surprise for you," Chris called out from the kitchen. He soon emerged carrying a tray of assorted snacks and two bottles of beer.

Looking at the label Tony shook his head approvingly. "Imported . . . Very nice."

"Nothing's too good for you and our first night alone together," Chris smiled.

Chris lay across Tony's lap looking up at him as they talked. They talked about everything. Their families, their friends, their special dance, and how happy they were to be together.

Tony looked down at Chris and couldn't help noticing how beautiful he was. Not beautiful like he would say a girl was beautiful. There was definitely nothing feminine about Chris. But Tony could think of no other way to describe him. In his eyes, Chris was absolutely beautiful. There was no denying it.

Chris' skin was incredibly smooth and had a sort of pink glow about it. His sighted eye was a shade of blue that Tony had never seen on another person. The brown leather patch over the other gave Chris a strong and masculine look. But Chris' smile was the thing that Tony loved the most. His lips were full and inviting. Tony couldn't help but run his fingers across them as Chris spoke. Chris began to kiss Tony's fingers and savor each one as they moved gently over his lips.

Chris could feel Tony getting hard against his back. Then he could feel his own body responding likewise.

Tony was more than a bit surprised when Chris sat up and straddled him. Chris had always waited for Tony to make the first move.

Chris found the sensitive spot behind Tony's ear and kissed it gently sending a serge of warmth throughout Tony's body. He nibbled his way down Tony's neck then stopped for just a moment to let his warm breath, tease the skin. Then, when he reached the base of Tony's neck, he bit firmly, just the way Tony liked it.

Tony growled and arched his back with pleasure. Chris had to grab onto Tony's shirt to keep from being tossed to the floor. Then Chris covered Tony's mouth with his own.

They could feel their desire for each other intensify through the fabric of their slacks.

Chris' boldness was unexpected but was definitely welcome. Tony became lost in this new experience allowing himself to follow Chris's lead. His pulse pounded in his ears as his body trembled with excitement.

Chris drew back slightly, and whispered through their kisses. "Race? . . . Have you ever thought about doing something . . . different?"

Tony's mind was clouded from the touch, and taste, and sent of Chris.

"Yea . . . Ah, no . . . Huh, what? What so you mean, different" he sighed?

"You know . . . sex."

The sudden recognition of what Chris was asking pulled Tony back to reality.

"Okay," Tony said as he eased Chris slightly away from him. "I think that you've had a little too much to drink."

"It's not the beer," Chris replied. "Look," he said as he waved the bottle in front of Tony's face. "I didn't even finish the first one."

Tony gently moved Chris off of his lap. "Of course I've thought about it. I'm just surprised that you've thought about it."

"Look, Race. I'm going to ignore the fact that your making me sound like an idiot."

"You mean sound like a blond," Tony laughed?

"Yea, Race, that's very funny. I am capable of cognitive thought, you know."

"I know," Tony said reassuringly. "I'm just teasing you . . . But to answer your question yes I have thought about it. I've thought about it a lot. But we are not going to do this when you've been drinking."

"Cone on, Race. You know that I haven't had that much to drink."

"I'm serious Blink. If we are going to take this to the next level, I want to be sure that you know what you're are asking. I'd hate to think that you'd wake up tomorrow, regretting what we'd done."

"No . . . No I wouldn't regret it. I was thinking that I would like to . . . you know . . . Do it. But I was kinda hoping that you would have suggested it by now It's just that you are more experienced, and I was wondering why you hadn't."

Chris waited for a response, but Tony said nothing. Chris began to squirm inside. Suddenly this didn't seem like such a good idea.

"I didn't mean to put you on the spot, Race. Just forget that I said anything."

"Look, Blink. This is a big step for you. I know that it was for me. I have to be sure that it's what we _both_ want."

Chris sat back against the couch and pulled his knees up against his chest. "Oh," was all he said.

"Okay, Chris. What's the matter? What did I say?"

"Nothing . . . I understand."

"Apparently you don't understand, or you wouldn't be upset."

"It's just that . . . well, you know how I feel about you. And lately, I been thinking that I want to be with you . . . you know . . . that way. I've been thinking about it a lot. I was hoping that you wanted the same thing. I thought that you felt the same way about me . . . But it's okay. I understand."

Tony stood up and walked across the room and grabbed his duffel bag.

A slight panic welled up inside Chris. "Race, please don't leave. I won't bring it up again. I promise"

"Jesse, Blink. Will you relax? I'm not going anywhere. I'm just looking for something."

Tony fumbled around inside the bag, then pulled out a small black zippered case.

"Here," Tony said as he tossed it to Chris. "Go ahead. Look inside."

Chris opened the bag, and together with Tony's toothbrush, comb, and other personnel items, he found the lube that Tony had purchased earlier in the day.

Chris's face blushed red at the sight of it.

Tony smiled with delight as he wondered how Chris could be bold enough to bring up the subject of intercourse then blush at the sight of the tube.

"Ya see," he said, as he sat back down next to Chris. "I have thought about it. I thought about doing it tonight. Hell, I've jacked off to the thought of doing it! I just want you to be sure. That's all."

Chris looked at Tony with the pout that melted Tony's heart.

"That's not fair," Tony scolded. "You know I hate it when you give me that look."

"You don't hate it," Chris teased. "You love it."

"No, I don't. And it's not going to work so just stop it!"

"You do too love it," Chris laughed as he poked Tony in the sides. "Come on admit it. You love it."

"God, Blink. You're such a child."

"And you're an old man," Chris laughed.

"Jackass," Tony sputtered.

"Asshole," Chris grinned.

"Slut," Tony smirked.

"Prude," Chris Laughed.

Tony stood up and snatched the tube away from Chris with one hand and took Chris's hand with the other.

As Tony lead Chris down the hall he mumbled, "I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

"Something really incredible, I hope," Chris replied.

About half way down the hall, Tony stopped, and pinned Chris against the wall.

Tony's mouth pressed against Chris' more fervently than at any time before. Their teeth clashed together as Tony's tongue went deeper into Chris' mouth. Tony's movements were strange to Chris but were eagerly accepted. Tony tore at the buttons on Chris's shirt and quickly discarded the garment. He undid Chris' belt and relieved him of his suddenly too tight pants and boxers. A flash of heat engulfed Chris's body. The sensation made him moan with delight.

Tony quickly shed his clothing, and pressed his body firmly against Chris. He began to bite at Chris's ear, then slowly worked his way down then neck, leaving small red marks at each stop. By the time Tony reached the shoulder, Chris was writhing uncontrollably. His hips were pressing back against Tony's. The pressure was building within Chris, and he knew that he couldn't hold back much longer.

"Race," he said breathlessly. "If you keep this up it's all going to be over right here."

"Okay," Tony said, pushing away from Chris.

Chris was headed back down the hall when Tony asked, "Where are you going?"

Chris was completely puzzled. " I was going to the bedroom. I thought we were going to . . . you know."

"Yea, I know," said Tony. "But if we are going to do this then it's going to be my way. Okay?"

Chris became quite apprehensive at the serious tone of Tony's words. But Chris loved Tony and trusted him completely.

"Yea . . . Okay, Race."

"Where do you keep the eye-patch that you use for swim meets?"

"It's in my gym bag," Chris responded uncomfortably.

"Well, go get it and put it on."

Chris went to his room and found the bag. His hands were shaking as he rummaged through the contents.

He removed the leather patch and placed it carefully on his dresser. Chris looked at himself in the mirror. He examined his uncovered eye and wondered when, if ever, he would feel comfortable enough to let Tony see him without the patch.

"Blink? Is everything all right in there?" Tony called.

"Yea. I'll be right out," Chris called back as he donned the new patch. He took a quick glance in the mirror to see that it was on straight, and went back into the hall to join Tony.

The hallway was empty. A trickle of light showed around the slightly open bathroom door.

Chris waited uncomfortably for Tony to finish whatever he was doing.

Suddenly, Tony called out, "Blink, you out there?"

"Yea. Im here."

"Well come on in then," Tony instructed.

The Room was filled with steam. The thick damp air took Chris' breath away for just a few seconds.

The frosted glass door of the shower slid open, and there stood Tony. His body wet, and glistening through the steam.

Chris' body reacted to the site, and his excitement became immediately evident.

"Come on," Tony said softly as he held his hand out to Chris.

Chris flinched at the feel of the exceptionally hot water.

"Sorry," Tony said, as he turned down the temperature. "I like my showers hot. The same way as I like my men," he chuckled.

"What are we doing in here?" Chris asked tentatively.

"Relaxing," Tony said.

Tony took the large bath sponge he had found in a basket next to the shower and squeezed on a generous portion of liquid soap. Slowly and methodically, he began to wash Chris' back.

Chris's apprehension began to fade as the sponge slowly made its way around his body. The hot water, the steam, and the rhythmic movements of Tony's hands captivated Chris. He was entranced, swaying slightly to match Tony's movements. Tony pressed his body against Chris's back as he reached around to massage Chris' chest. The liquid soap made their bodies move easily against each other. They were engulfed in a closeness that was new and intoxicating.

Soon Tony's hand, and the sponge, traveled down Chris' body. Its slow and easy movement across his abdomen and stomach sent a chill down his spine. Tony continued down the outside of Chris' thigh, then slowly began the travel up, coming ever closer to his destination.

Suddenly, Chris pulled away from Tony's embrace.

"Come on, Race," he said sounding slightly annoyed. "I told you before that I couldn't take much more of this."

"So?" Tony said almost laughing.

"So!" Chris was becoming increasing irritated. "So, I'm serious. You know that if you keep this up that I will . . . be finished."

"So what are you trying to tell me, Blink?"

"So I don't want it to be over here. I want to do what we talked about."

Now Tony was laughing. But it wasn't a mocking laugh. He was delighted by the innocence of his lover.

"Blink, don't you realize that you can do both? You're seventeen years old for crissake. At this age we can do this over and over all night. It doesn't have to be just once and you're through."

Chris looked at Tony as if he had suddenly solved all the mysteries of the universe.

"I know all of that, Race. I've taken biology too. It's just that we've only done it once each time we were together."

"Blink, we've never had the time or the opportunity to do it more than once," Race assured him. "I don't want this to be a just do it and get it over with thing. I want this to be different and special for your . . . I mean for our first time."

Tony leaned over and kissed Chris, then continued his lathery exploration of Chris' body.

Soon he succeeded in satisfying both their needs.

Tony grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. Then he took another and wrapped it around Chris' shoulders.

Then, they stood silent, in each others arms.

Eventually, they made their way back to Chris' room and stretched out comfortably on the bed. Chris was now considerably more at ease and thankful that he had a considerate and understanding lover in Tony.

They relaxed and made pillow talk. They were enjoying the simple closeness of each other. Soon their light and playful kisses became urgent and needful.

Tony's eyes traveled the length of Chris' body.

Chris became suddenly conscious, of Tony's gaze. In a fleeting moment of modesty Chris turned slightly to cover himself.

"Don't" Tony whispered. "I love to look at you. You're beautiful."

Soon, Tony was on top of Chris. There was an eagerness in both of them.

"Chris? Are sure that this is what you want? It doesn't have to be tonight. We've got a lot of time ahead of us and - -"

"Damn it, Tony you can't stop now. This_ is _what I want!"

There was an urgency in Chris' voice that Tony had never heard before.

"Please Tony, don't make me wait . . . Please?"

Tony examined Chris' face. Perspiration was forming on his temples and upper lip. He could see the need in Chris's expression.

Tony was sure that this was the right time. Chris was ready, and he was ready.

While he prepared himself, Tony explained what he was going to do and what was going to happen. He didn't want Chris to be afraid or surprised.

"Your first time isn't always easy," Tony said.

"I know," Chris assured him. "But it's what I want."

Tony prepared Chris as softly and as comfortably as possible.

Tony took Chris, gently and lovingly.

It was incredible. This ultimate expression of their love, was more beautiful then either had imagined was possible.

Their sleep came quickly and easily.

**END - CHAPTER 6**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please Review. 


	7. The Morning After

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

I am making no money from this story. I seriously doubt the sanity of anyone who would pay money to read anything I have written.

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.

**Chapter 7 - The Morning After**

The gym was quite.

Jack, David, Chris, and Tony were all relaxing awaiting Reggie's return.

Jack sat on the floor with his back up against the stage. David was asleep with his head in Jack's lap. He hadn't slept for almost two days.

David had been working feverishly on a plan to save his school's artistic programs. His school had suffered a major budget cut. As always the music, art, and theater programs were the first to go.

David organized fund raisers with students and parent groups. He ran bake sales, car washes, and auctions. David knocked on the doors of local merchants, and corporations soliciting donations. He filled out mountains of paperwork applying for local and government grants.

With little to no help, David succeeded in raising the money needed to save the programs. He would be presenting the proposals to the school board on Wednesday.

David had spent the last three days going over figures and polishing the proposal. In addition, he organized Jack's assignment schedule, proofed two of Jack's articles (which were being submitted just under their deadline), made their travel arrangements, and did all of the packing.

David had worked straight through. He never took anything for granted. David made sure everything was completed before they left on their trip home.

Jack sat sipping coffee from a paper cup as he watched David sleep. He was so proud of David.

There would be no banquets hosted in David's honor. He would be given no awards to put on the shelf next to those that Jack has received. In reality, David would probably not even hear a thank you from the parents or his students. But none of that mattered to David, because he didn't do it for himself.

That was David. He took care of Jack, his students, and everything else. He did it all with little thanks from any of them.

Jack gently stroked David's dark curls and thought how very much he loved and admired David. Jack wished that he could give David the one thing that they both wanted.

David was now starting to stir in his sleep.

Jack looked across the room and saw that Tony and Chris were watching him and smiling.

Jack simply raised his cup in their direction and looked back down at David, who was now looking back at him.

"Hi," David said with a sleepy smile. "Hi," Jack answered with a smile that was only for David.

David sat up still half asleep and curled up under Jack's arm. "Go back to sleep" Jack said as he covered David with his jacket.

"No, I'll be okay in a minuet," David mumbled as he drifted back to sleep.

Tony and Chris were snuggled quietly on the other side of the room.

Tony was sitting with his back against the wall, while Chris sat in front leaning his back against Tony's chest.

They had been reminiscing about their weekend at Chris' house, while his mother was away on business.

"That was a great weekend," Chris said happily.

"The first of many," Tony replied. Then he gave Chris a kiss on the neck.

"Yeah," Chris whispered. "But that weekend was extra special because it was our first time."

"You mean that it was the first time we ever _did-it _as you used to call it." Again they both laughed. "Ya know, Chris. I always thought it was adorable how much you enjoyed doing itbut could never call it by its proper name."

"I still enjoy doing it," Chris said as he leaned back and gave Tony a kiss on the jaw.

"So do I," Tony whispered into Chris' ear . . . "And you're right. That first night was amazing . . . And as I recall, the next morning was pretty amazing as well."

Chris was the first to awaken on the morning after their special night together.

Tony's head was resting easily against Chris's chest.

As Chris watched him sleep, he couldn't believe how much he loved Tony, and how lucky he was to have Tony in his life.

Tony opened his eyes and saw that Chris was looking at him.

"What?" Tony asked.

"Nothing," Chris smiled.

"What, am I drooling or something?"

"No dumb-ass. I was just looking at you is all. I like to look at you."

Tony smiled and snuggled back against Chris.

"I love you, Race," Chris said, as he gently pushed the hair away from Tony's face.

Tony lifted himself up and rolled over on top of Chris. "Good," he said. " I'd hate to think that I love you this much, and you didn't love me back."

As they began to kiss, their bodies responded accordingly.

"This is a great way to wake up in the morning," Chris murmured.

"It sure is," Tony said. Then he sat up, threw off the covers, and jumped out of bed.

"Where are you going?" Chris asked. "It's Saturday morning. I thought we could stay in bed for a while?"

"Come on Blink, I have a lot to do today. As much as I'd like it, I don't have time to stay curled up in bed with you."

Chris was visibly hurt and disappointed.

"Race, don't you want to . . . you know . . . do it?"

"I don't know what your plans are, Blink But I need to take a shower and get going."

When he reached the doorway, Tony stopped and looked back at Chris. "Well?" . . . Tony asked with one eyebrow raised. "Aren't you coming with me? After last night, I thought we'd decided that showers are definitely a couple's activity!"

Chris almost knocked Tony over as they rushed to the bathroom.

Tony prepared a gourmet breakfast of Lucky Charms and juice.

They wrestled over the sports page, flicked cereal at each other, and did most of the disgusting things that teenage boys do to gross each other out while eating.

When he'd finally gotten up enough nerve to talk about their previous nights activities, Chris blurted out, "I just want you to know that I'm not sorry about what we did last night. It was really great."

"I'm glad," Tony said as he leaned over to give Chris a kiss. "I wanted it to be special. I thought it was great too," he added.

Tony had gone back to reading the sports page, then realized Chris was watching him again.

"Why the hell are you looking at? You have seen me read before. It can't be all that interesting."

"Race, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Tony said as he put down the newspaper to give Chris his full attention "What do you want to know?"

"You don't have to answer me if you don't want to."

"Jeeze! Just spit it out, Blink. What do you want to know?"

"Well . . . I was just wondering about your first time. What was it like?"

"It was good," Tony answered simply and directly. " We didn't do the same kind of stuff you and I did last night. It was more spontaneous, but it was good."

"And before you ask," Tony continued, "Yes. Last night with you was much better than that night."

"I'm glad," Chris said with that smile that Tony loved so much.

After a moment of silence, Tony looked up from his newspaper and saw that Chris was still watching him. "You want to know who I was with the first time, don't you?"

"Yeah. I was wondering if it was someone that I knew? But really, Race. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, it's okay. I don't mind telling you. It was Spot."

"Spot? You and Spot?" Chris' jaw dropped open, and his eye appeared twice it's normal size.

"Yeah. Spot was my first boyfriend. And don't look so surprised. There is a whole other side to Spot than most people never see."

"Obviously," Chris chuckled.

"I'm serious, Blink. What you . . . What most people see is only the tough side of Spot."

Spot had an awful life with his parents. His mother was a junkie, and his father was a disgusting sadistic dick. I won't go into the details of what that bastard did to Spot and his mother.

Anyway, Spot always knew that he was different sexually. The kind of environment he was from, you learn that kind of stuff early in life.

When Spot's father found out that he was bi, the fucker beat him until he broke Spot's arm and three ribs. Then the father of the year took off for almost two months. He left Spot to take care of himself and his junkie mom. He was nine years old at the time.

Later, Spot's father told him that the reason his mother was a junkie, was because she couldn't deal with the fact that her son was a freak. That prick convinced Spot that she was being punished for his sins.

When Spots mother died of a drug overdose, Spot was the one who found her. She still had the needle sticking out of her arm. He was only ten years old.

Spot was all kinds of fucked up. The fact that he was bi made everything worse.

It's a good thing that Jack's mother is a hard ass. Anyone else would have sent him packing to a foster home or something.

After he moved here, Spot kind of adopted my dad. I guess you could say that they kind of adopted each other. Spot never had anyone to look up to or even talk to before then.

Eventually, my dad got Spot to talk about it.

Dad assured Spot that he had nothing to do with his mother being on drugs. She'd been shooting up since before he was born. Eventually, Dad convinced Spot that he was not the spawn from hell and that being bisexual didn't make him evil.

Spot and my dad spent a lot of hours talking about stuff. They still do.

Then when I finally admitted to myself that I was gay, Spot was there for me. I talked and he listened. He showed me that I wasn't the spawn from hell either. He taught me to accept myself. It was only natural that we would hook up.

It was Spot who convinced me to come out to my dad. When I did, it was great. We had the best talk ever. Dad told me that he loved me and that he was proud of me. The fact that I liked boys didn't change anything between us. The strangest part was that when I told him about Spot and me he just laughed. He had known about it all along.

Blink, you have to understand that what I just told you is between you and me, okay? Nobody except my parents, and now you know about any of this. That's the way Spot wants it, and I respect that.

"Sure, Race. Thanks for telling me. I won't say anything about it."

"Enough of this sentimental shit. Lets go over to Specs house and find out what those two were doing last night . . . As if I didn't know."

"Yeah, that was a great weekend," Tony said as he kissed his way down Chris, neck. "It was our first weekend together, we took out first shower together, and it was the first time we _did it _together," Tony chuckled.

"Damn I love it when you kiss me on that spot," Chris murmured.

"Did I hear someone mention my name?" a voice called from the doorway.

"Spot!" Jack shouted from across the room

"Nevah feah . . . Conlon is heah!" Spot announced as he sauntered into the gym.

Jack began to run in Spot's direction. Jack looked as if he were about to tackle the smaller man and throw him to the ground.

Instead, Jack grabbed Spot around the waist and threw Spot over his shoulder. Then, Jack spun Spot around propeller style like he did when they were kids.

"Put me down, jackass!" Spot shouted.

"Make me!" Jack replied.

With that, Spot reached down and grabbed Jack by the crotch. This immediately made Jack put Spot down. Then with a couple of quick movements, Jack was down on the floor with Spot's knee on his chest.

Struggling to catch his breath, Jack sputtered, "Damn, Spot. Where the fuck did you learn to do that?"

"The United States Marine Corps," Spot said with a smirk.

**"Bullshit!"** a voice boomed from the doorway. "I taught him that in the Police Academy."

It was Specs. He was accompanied by Dutchy as always. Specs dropped his backpack and approached Spot. They starred at each other smiling for a few seconds.

"Hey, brother," Specs said.

"Hey, brother," Spot replied.

Then they embraced as if they hadn't seen each other for years. It hadn't been all that long though. They had been partners until Spot transferred to the youth division.

"So, Spot. You gonna stop playing with the kiddies and come back to do some real police work?"

"I can't do that," Spot answered. "How about you coming to join me?"

"I can't do that," Specs answered. "I need to be where I am."

"Well, I need ta be where I am. I wanna try and head them off before they become your problem."

They nodded in agreement then shook hands.

"Okay," Jack said. "Let me guess. You got a letter or phone call telling you to be here before 5:00 today right?"

"You guessed it," Spot replied.

"This is beginning to sound like a really bad mystery novel," Chris laughed.

"I think that it is more like someone wants us all to get together," Jack said. "There may very well be something wrong with the sale of this place, but why not take the information to the D.A.s office? Why go through all the trouble of rounding us up like this?"

"I guess we'll find out at 5:00," David mused.

"What do we know so far?" Spot asked.

"We know that something doesn't look right with the latest financial report," said Tony. "It seems as though Old Weasel is getting quite a pension out of this place. More than three times what Denton is getting. We've just been sitting around here waiting for the Administration Office to clear out, so Reggie can get a look at the pension contracts."

"So what have you been doing to pass the time?" Dutchy asked.

"Well," said Jack as he gestured toward Chris and Tony. "Basically these two have been trying to recapture their youth by doing each other in every conceivable place they can find. Then while they recuperate we've been talking over old times."

"Ah . . . The good old days," Spot said sarcastically.

"Not all so good," said Tony. "We were just talking about the day after the fall dance. When Chris and I went over to Specs' house to see why you didn't show up." Tony looked over at Dutchy. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up?" he asked.

"Nah. It's okay Race. That was a long time ago. I was pretty fucked up for a while, but I've been clean for more than twelve years now. Specs and I have a good life together. Really good."

"Well, I'm glad to know that you're planning to keep me around for a while," Specs said as he put his arm around Dutchy's waist.

"Hell yeah," Dutchy replied as he leaned into Specs' embrace. "It's taken me thirty years to break you in. I'm not about to start looking for someone else when I've finally got you the way I want you!"

"Okay," Specs chuckled. "Lets get comfortable and you can fill us in on whatever part of the story we missed."

"I'm sure that Tony's version of the story started out with him and Chris having mad passionate sex," Jack laughed.

"Right again Jackie-boy," said Spot. "From what I heard they did the nasty in the shower, then they ate breakfast while discussing how Tony lost his virginity."

Tony glared at Spot. "How the hell long were you standing there listening, you pervert?"

"Long enough, pal. So tell us, Race? Who did you make it with the first time?"

"Sorry, Spot. I don't kiss and tell. There are only three people who know that story. It's just me, Chris, and the guy in question. That's as far as the story will ever go."

Spot smiled at Tony and nodded approvingly.

"All right already," said Dutchy. "Get back to the story. What did we miss?"

"Well, like I said," Jack chuckled. "Race and Blink had just had sex, and . . . "

"Excuse me!" Tony huffed. "We weren't the only ones. That was the weekend you came out to the entire universe. I'm sure that there was plenty of testosterone working over at your house."

"I'll testify to that!" Spot interrupted. "I had to sleep out on the couch that night. Oh yeah, and don't forget about Snoddy and Irish. That was the night that they first hooked up. They didn't go all the way or anything. But there was plenty of over the sweater action going on."

"How do you know what went on between the two if them?" David asked.

"I know because they offered me a ride home from Tibbini's Restaurant. Snoddy drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on Irish's headlights. I ended up walking home because Snoddy decided that he was going to take Irish to his make out place."

"Oh, poor Spottie," Jack teased. "He was upset because we were all getting some and he didn't."

"Who said I was alone that night?" Spot asked playfully. "All I said was that I slept on the couch. I didn't tell you what happened before I got home."

"Oh yeah? Well who were you with?" Jack asked smugly.

"In the example of my good friend, Racetrack. Dat's between me and da cutie in question."

"Okay, Race," Dutchy said trying to get back to the story. "You and Chris had wild sex as usual. Then what happened?"

"Then we headed over to Specs' house to find out why you didn't show up at the dance? . . . Are you sure you don't mind us talking about this, Dutchy?"

"It's okay Race. Really it is," Dutchy assured him as he reached for Specs hand. "I came to terms with it a long time ago."

"Yeah," said Specs. "Get on with the damn story already!"

When Tony and Chris arrived at Specs' house, they knocked on the door but nobody answered.

"They've gotta be here," Chris said. "Both of their cars are in the driveway."

"Those two are probably trying to climb each other as we speak," Tony grumbled.

Tony kept knocking until Specs finally opened the door.

Specs didn't look directly at them. He turned, and without saying a word, proceeded to the family room.

As they went down the stairs, they saw Dutchy sitting on the couch. The room was dimly lit so Tony went over to the switch and turned on the lights. "What did we do, disturb your . . . Shit, Specs! What happened to you!"

Specs' eye was black and his lips and face were bruised and swollen.

Chris walked around the couch and looked at Dutchy. He looked almost as bad as Specs.

"Dutchy, what happened? Did you get into an accident of something?"

Dutchy just turned away from Chris and curled up on the couch. Specs sat down and put his arms around Dutchy.

"Come on," Tony urged. "What the fuck happened?"

"The Delancey's happened" Specs shouted!

**END CHAPTER 7**

Please Read and Review.


	8. A Common Bond

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

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I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

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I am making no money from this story. I seriously doubt the sanity of anyone who would pay money to read anything I have written.

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Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations and Language.

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**Warning:** This chapter begins by telling of a past sexual assault. Non-Graphic.

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**Chapter - 8 A Common Bond **

Specs and Dutchy had been worked over by the Delanceys.

Specs appeared to have taken the worst of the beatings. His lip was swollen and split. Each time he spoke the wound would open, and a trickle of blood would travel to his chin. His left eyelid was purple and almost completely closed. His wire rimmed glasses were twisted, and a piece of tape was holding them together at the side. He had put up a hell of a fight, but Specs was no match for the brothers.

Specs' face was a testament of Oscar's brutality.

In addition to his facial injuries, Specs had taken repeated blows to the stomach and ribs. Pain engulfed his mid section with every breath.

Then, there were the other wounds. Those inflicted by Morris during the violent and depraved assault.

Dutchy didn't seem too badly hurt. He did have numerous cuts and bruises, but they looked mild in comparison to those of his partner. But it wasn't Dutchy's physical injuries that concerned Specs.

Something was not right. It was like a part of Dutchy were missing or had been switched off. Specs couldn't put it into words, but something was definitely wrong.

Tony was shocked to see the condition of his friends and pressed Specs for an explanation

"When we got to the dance those two pricks were at the door. Morris was waving some papers in my face. He said that people like us were _immoral_, and there were rules written to keep us out. Dutchy started to argue, but I said fuck the whole thing. I just wanted to leave. We started walking back to my car, and when we reached the side of the building, they jumped us."

"They gave you a beating like this just because you guys are gay?" Chris asked.

"They did more than beat us" Specs replied.

"Please, Specs," Dutchy whispered. "Don't say anything."

"It's okay, Dutchy." Specs reassured him. "People are gonna find out anyway."

"No!" Dutchy pleaded. "You promised that you wouldn't tell anybody. Please, Specs, you promised."

"Fuck it, Dutchy! We don't have anything to be ashamed of. We didn't do anything wrong. They beat the living crap out of us and . . ."

"It's okay," Tony said. "You don't have to tell me. I can guess what happened."

"The fuck you can!" Specs shouted. "You don't have any idea how sick those two animals are."

"Yeah, I do," Tony said calmly. "I know from personal experience."

"You, Race? They did this to you?"

"Yeah they did. It happened last year. Do you remember when I was putting in all that time at the gym practicing for basketball trouts? Well, they beat the crap out of me and dragged me under the bleachers. Then they both . . . ya know."

"Damn, Racetrack. You never said anything. I had no Idea."

"What the hell was I gonna say? . . . Hey, Guys. What did you do last night? I had an interesting evening. I got passed back and forth by the Delanceys. . . . That's not the kind of stuff you bring up at the lunch table. I still have nightmares about it. The only one I ever told was Blink, but I have a feeling that we're not the only ones they did this to."

"What makes you think that?" Specks asked.

"It was something that Jack said to Davey last night. He said that Davey had no idea what the Oscar and Morris would do if they ever got him alone. Then he said something about how many of us the Delanceys have already hurt. It sounded like Jack was talking about more than a just couple of black eyes."

Tony stood silent for a moment and stared at the floor.

"Ya know, there's something that I still don't understand about that night in the gym. How could the Delanceys take such a sick pleasure in what they did to me and still say that they hate gays? It's like those two morons think they can still be straight just because they were on the giving end. I don't care what those two mouth breathers think, but if you're man having sex with another man . . . Then your gay!"

"They call that an active-passive split," Chris interjected.

"A what?" Tony asked.

"An active-passive split. It's where only the receiver is perceived as gay. The one doing the deed considers himself to be the _real man _and thinks of the other guy as a freak."

"Well, what the hell? Where did you come up with that?" Tony asked.

"I looked it up," Chris answered. "I found an article about it in the library. Apparently it's this major form of denial."

"He's cute, and he's smart too, Tony said proudly."

Tony's face burned red when he realized what he had said. He and Chris avoided looking at each other. They still didn't want anyone to know that they were a couple.

"Oh give it up!" Specs hissed. "We know all about it. The two of you have been doin' each other for months now. You're so obvious that it's pitiful. And you were flirtin' with each other for a couple of months before that. Dutchy and I were making bets on how long it was going to take you to get together."

"If you knew about me and Chris, why didn't you say anything?"

"Because wasn't any of our business," Specs replied. "Now, if you can put your love life aside for just a few minutes, will you explain why Jack was telling Davey about the Delanceys?"

"You don't think that he knows what happened to us, do you?" Dutchy whispered to Specs.

"Nah. This had nothing to do with you," Tony assured them. "But you guys did miss a terrific show last night. Davey stood up to the Delanceys and more or less accused them of being a couple of closet cases."

"Dave did what?"

"Yeah," Tony continued. "It was great! Davey taunted them about how they always follow us around and enjoy putting their hands on us. Then he pointed out that they especially like it when they can get us alone."

"Yeah," said Chris. "That's when the real fun started. Oscar slammed Davey against the wall and Jack went nuts! . . . Then Oscar accused Jack of being Davey's boyfriend. Jack looked him straight in the eye and said 'So what if I am?' Ya shoulda seen it. Jack came out in front of _everybody_! Then he proceeded to beat the piss out of Oscar and Morris!"

"It was beautiful!" Tony laughed. "Jack even kissed Davey! He did it right outside the gym with everyone watching!"

"Damn," Specs grumbled. "I would have paid money to see that."

After a few more minutes of describing the previous nights events, Tony motioned for Specs to follow him outside.

"So how are you two guys, really?" Tony asked. "I know that you're not fine, but . . . you know what I mean?"

"Yeah. I know," Specs replied. "I'm okay, but I don't know about Dutchy. He won't let me take him to the hospital. I don't think that he has any permanent injuries, but his head ain't right."

"That's understandable" Tony replied.

"No, Race. This is different. Oscar really fucked with his mind. He made it sound like the whole thing was all Dutchy's fault. He kept saying how pretty Dutchy was. It was like he was punishing Dutchy for the way he looks."

"Well, what are we going to do about it?"

"What can we do? Dutchy won't let me tell anyone. I'm afraid that if I do, then he'll freak. I'm scared for him, Racetrack. Really scared. I can't put it into words, but it's like he ain't all there. It's like something is missing."

"Well, we've gotta do somethin', " Tony said. "They can't keep doing this to us. The least we can do is stick together and not let them get any of us alone. We have to start going to school and to dances and stuff in groups."

"Aren't you forgetting that Dutchy and I are _immoral_ and no longer permitted at school functions?"

"Yeah. What the hell was that about?"

"I'm not sure. Morris had a bunch of papers stapled together. I only got a quick look at them, but it said something about school conduct."

"None of this makes any sense," Tony grumbled. "I'm gonna go over and talk to Dave. He's on the student council. Maybe he knows what's going on? . . .Look, Specs. I'm not gonna tell him everything that the Delanceys did to you, but I am gonna tell him about the beatings. He's gonna find out anyway. Those bruises are going to be with you for a while."

Chris agreed to stay with Dutchy and Specs while Tony went to see Dave. It wasn't as if Chris could do anything for them, but he did have a way of taking your mind off your troubles. Tony's father always said that Chris had the gift of gab. Mr. Higgins never called him Chris or Blink. He always referred to Chris as "Gabby." If nothing else, Chris would at least be a distraction for a while.

David was shocked to hear what had happened to his friends.

"They did what?" David asked.

"The Delanceys put a beating Specs and Dutchy last night. They were trying to get into the dance but the Delanceys stopped them. Morris had some papers that he claimed could keep them out."

"That's ridiculous!" David protested. "What kind of papers could do that?"

"I don't know, Dave. Specs only got a quick look at them, but he said that he saw something about school conduct."

David stood thinking and shaking his head. "I don't know what that could be, but lt me call Irish. As recording secretary, she has access to all sorts of papers. Maybe she knows what this is all about?"

After a quick conversation with Irish, Dave hung up and went back to talk with Tony.

"Irish said that it sounds like Morris had a copy of the Student Code of Conduct. I've never heard of it but she says that it does exist. There is a copy of it in her files. She's going to dig it out and meet us over at Jack's around 3:00."

Tony and Chris hung out at Chris' place until it was time to meet the others.

"Hey, Blink?" Tony asked, as he was fixing their lunch. "Have you thought about telling your mother that you're gay?"

"Yeah, I've thought about it."

"Well?"

"Well I decided that I wanted to live long enough to graduate!"

"You don't really think that she'd take it that bad, do ya?"

"I love my mom and all, but I don't think she'd like the idea of having a queen for a son."

"Blink, you're far from being a queen. You're more like a princes," Tony laughed.

"That's very funny, Race," Chris grumbled, as he hit Tony with a magazine.

"Oh come on, Blink. Ya know I'm only kidding with ya. There is definitely nothing feminine about you!"

"Yeah, I know. But to my mom it would be the same thing. You've seen her give me those looks when Specs and Dutchy come over. She actually said that they are a bad influence. She thinks that they could give the wrong idea to a wholesome boy like myself."

"Wholesome?" Tony was laughing so hard that he could barely speak. "She thinks that you're wholesome? She should know what a slut you are!"

"Only for you, sweetheart" Chris chuckled as he grabbed a bottle of juice with one hand, and Tony's bottom with the other.

"Don't forget that I'm still seventeen. She can keep me from seeing you if it came to that. I'm not going to chance telling her until May when I turn eighteen. Then there is no way she can stop me."

Chris downed the last of his juice and gave Tony a little wink. "Yep. Until then, I'm gonna make her think that you and I are just a couple of good o'l boys. Two straight guys whose main goal in life is to bag every cheerleader on the squad!"

"Oooooo!" Tony jeered as he straddled Chris in the kitchen chair. "I love it when you talk hetero to me. Come on, baby. Say some more."

Chris laughed, as Tony nibbled on his ear."You can really be a sick bastard when you want to. Can't ya, Racetrack?"

"Yes I can! And don't pretend that you don't love every bit of it!"

"Man-Slut," Chris chuckled.

"Boy Toy," Tony laughed.

Irish sat on her bedroom floor searching through the cardboard boxes she'd dug out of her closet. They contained years worth of records that she had inherited from the previous recording secretary. Most of the files contained outdated records that nobody cared about. In the year since she brought the boxes home, this was only the second time, Irish found cause to look through them.

It didn't take long to find what she was looking for. "The Student Code of Conduct for Pulitzer Academy."

Irish went downstairs to her father's office and made a copy. Then armed with an arsenal of highlighters and colored markers, she began to examine the document.

Several hours later she arrived at Jacks house. The papers now looked like a rainbow with all of the highlighted points of interest.

"I think this is what you are looking for," Irish said as she bounced down the stairs to Jack's family room. "Wait till you get a look at it. Seven shades of shite that is!"

Tony couldn't help but smile at Irish's statement. Though her accent wasn't as thick as when they first met, it was still a delightful part of her character. But it was her expressions that Tony most enjoyed. Irish reminded Tony of his father. They were from different parts of Ireland and their accents were distinctly different. Still, many of their expressions were the same. Tony often heard his father refer to something as seven shades of shite.

Tony couldn't believe his eyes as he read the heading aloud. "The Student Code of Conduct for Pulitzer Academy dated September 1947. You've got to be kidding. This thing hasn't been updated since 1947?"

"That's Right," replied Irish.

"Damn. That was before my mother was born" Jack said in amazement.

"Get this," Tony said as he read from the Student Dress Code.

_The school uniform will be worn at all times._

_Girl's skirts will be worn no shorter than 1 inch below the knee. _

_No silk stockings will be permitted. White cotton sox and lace spectators are to be worn with the school uniform._

_No lip rouge, perfume, or other cosmetic adornments will be permitted._

_No ear bobs or jewelry, other than religious medals and school rings will be permitted._

_All underclassmen, both boys and girls, must wear the school beanie with their uniforms._

"What's a beanie?" Jack asked.

"It's that little hat that Spanky and Porky wore in the Little Rascals" Chris answered.

Jack laughed as he gave Irish a friendly punch to the arm. " If Attila the Nun finds out about this dress code thing, you're gonna be in trouble!"

"No kidding!" Irish grumbled. "Last week Sister Mary threatened me with detention for wearing an overshirt. If they start goin' by these rules, then herself will still have me in detention two years after I graduate! But if you think the dress code is bad check out what's written on page five. Look under the heading of Morality and Propriety."

Tony found the section and read it to the others.

_There will be no kissing, embracing, holding of hands, or any other form of indecent behavior on the school grounds or at any school function._

_Only couples will be permitted entrance to school dances unless otherwise noted. No unescorted girls will be granted entrance to school dances. No boys will be granted entrance either alone or in groups. _

_Any student who's conduct (on or off school grounds) is determined to be indecent (offensive to public moral values or good taste), unseemly, immodest, or unrespectable, will be banned from school functions._

"That must be the part that Morris was referring to when he said that there were rules to keep Specs and Dutchy out of the dance," Tony said. "But this can't be right. This stuff is too old."

"Unfortunately it's true," Irish replied. "Since the document has not been updated since 1947, then like it or not that thing is law. According to what I read further on, Specs and Dutchy could be permanently expelled for their lifestyle."

"You're wrong Irish," David protested. "They can't be kicked out because they are gay. It's against the law to discriminate against anyone because of their sexual preference."

"No Davey, you're wrong," Irish replied. "You would be right if this were a public school but it isn't. This is a parochial school. Even though we have a large population of non Catholics at Pulitzer it is still a religious school. Any behavior that goes against church doctrine can be cause for dismissal."

"So then if the Delanceys push this thing, Dutchy and Specs can really get thrown out of school?" Jack asked.

Irish looked over to Jack and David. "They aren't the only ones who could get kicked out, ya know!"

"Hey whadda you lookin' at us for?" Jack grumbled. " What about Race and Blink over there?"

"What about us?" Tony hissed as he leaned toward Jack.

"Oh come on, Race," David said as he rolled his eyes. "Do you actually think that we don't know what's going on? If the two of you aren't whispering or giggling, then you're looking at each other like love sick puppies!"

"Christ! Is there anybody who doesn't know our personal business!" Tony shouted.

"Ach, don't get yer nickers in a twist," Irish laughed. "I'm sure that it's only your mates that know. Ya just gotta be more careful, and stop making a holy show out of yourselves!"

Irish's expressions had completely disarmed Tony. "Okay, smart-ass," he said as he smiled at Irish. "Seeing as you have all the answers, how can we get these rules changed?"

"The only way is to have the student council vote in the changes. The last time I looked there weren't too many people with guts enough to take on such a sensitive subject."

"Then we'll elect someone who does have the balls," Jack declared. "The elections are still two weeks away. There's time to pull this off isn't there, Dave?"

"Yes, Jack, there is. But who do we know that would be willing to take this on?"

Tony, Chris, and Irish looked at each other and smiled.

"Well, it should be someone who is popular with most of the kids and with the teachers," Tony said.

"And it would help to have someone who is good in sports to get the jock vote," Chris added.

"Having someone that the girls think is hot would certainly help," Irish giggled.

David quickly caught onto what the others were doing. "And it should be someone that the guys think is hot as well," David added.

"Well, who the hell are we going to get with all that?" Jack grumbled.

Nobody answered. They all just stared at Jack.

"What?" Jack asked looking completely puzzled.

Everyone started to chuckle.

"What's so funny? . . . Oh No! You're not thinking about me, are ya? . . . No way!"

"Well, you are popular Jack," Tony said as he put an arm around Jack's shoulder.

"And you are a jock," Chris added putting his arm around Jack's other shoulder.

"Let's not forget that you are a cutie," Irish said as she pinched his cheek

"Yeah, a real cutie," David said as he pinched Jack's bottom cheek.

"Oh Crap!" Jack muttered.

"Come on, Jack. What have you got to lose?" David asked. "You're already the most respected and popular guy at Pulitzer. And if you join the cause, then they'll join, and we'll be unstoppable. So you gotta do this. Because . . . well you gotta!"

"Yeah. Seize the day, Jackie-boy!" Tony added.

"Oh Crap!" Jack mumbled.

"Well, I hate to bring this up guys, but if you do go through with this then you are gonna make a lot of enemies," Irish said. "It won't be long before somebody starts poking into your personal lives. Pretty soon everybody is gonna know that you're gay. That includes your parents."

"Well I'm good," said David. "I had that talk with my parents years ago."

"Me too," said Tony. "Hell, my parents knew about it before I did!"

"I've already told my mom that I want to have a talk with her after work tonight," Jack added.

All eyes were fixed on Chris.

"Oh Crap!" was all Chris could say.

* * *

The guys werenow sitting in the bleachers, and laughing.

"You should have seen yourself, Blink," said David. "I can still picture the expression on your face. You looked like a deer caught in the headlights. I thought you were going to cry!"

"I was going to cry," said Chris. "You have no idea what it was like to have that talk with my mother!"

"It was like facing the _firing squad_ wasn't it, Chris?" Tony chuckled.

"Yeah it was. Only this time I wasn't anticipating a blow-job from you. I was expecting to get royally fucked-over by my mother!"

"Well, I couldn't do anything about your mother" Tony said as he put his arms around Chris. "But I was able to provide you with that blow-job the next night!"

"Jeez, there they go again," Jack laughed. "We just can't get through a story without these two throwing in their sex life . . . Seriously, Dutchy. You're a shrink. Isn't that abnormal behavior?"

"Well Jack," Dutchy replied using his using his official psychiatrist voice. "Do you think that it's abnormal behavior?"

"Huh?"

"When someone is uncomfortable with others enjoying a healthy intimate relationship, It often means that they themselves are sexually inadequate. Is that how you feel Jack?"

"Huh? . . . What? . . . Me?" Jack was horrified until he saw that Dutchy was trying desperately not to laugh.

"You prick!" Jack laughed as he punched Dutchy in the shoulder. "You had me going for a minute!"

"You've gotta learn to lighten up, Jackie-boy," said Dutchy. "Being too serious is bad for your libido!"

"Okay that's enough," David chuckled. "Let's stop picking on poor Jack. And might I add that there is nothing wrong with Jack sexually. As a matter of fact, I'd say that he is well above average in that department!"

"Well, well. Some things never change. After fifteen years all you guys can talk about is sex."

The group turned around and saw the outline of a figure in the far corner of the gym. Slowly he stepped into the light.

"It's Mush!" Spot shouted as he jumped from the top of the bleachers.

"Mushy-boy! How the hell are ya?" Spot asked as he went to hug his old friend.

Mush took a step back to avoid Spot's embrace.

"Hey, Spot," Mush said coldly.

Spot was taken aback by Mush's reaction.

Tony reached out to shake Mush's hand, but Mush responded by putting his hands into his pockets.

"Hey, Race. Hey fellas," Mush said curtly.

It was a cold greeting to say the least!

**END - CHAPTER 8**

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	9. Together Again

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

* * *

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

* * *

I am making no money from this story. I seriously doubt the sanity of anyone who would pay money to read anything I have written.

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.

* * *

**CHAPTER 9 - TOGETHER AGAIN**

Mush had fallen away from the group during their senior year at Pulitzer. He blamed Spot more than the others although he felt that there was plenty of blame to go around.

Spot had made repeated attempts to make things right between them but Mush wanted no part of it.

After graduation, Itey and Spot joined the Marine Corps and were stationed together during the Gulf War.

This was a particularly lonely time for Spot. He wrote to Mush but all of the letters came back unopened. Return to sender was always written on the envelopes. It was written in Mush's handwriting.

Itey, on the other hand received more mail than he could handle. Having two parents, eleven siblings, his friends and of course Reggie Higgins writing to him, he couldn't possibly keep up. No matter how busy he was, Itey never missed answering one of Reggie's letters.

Spot received mail as well, though not the same volume as Itey. (Even Colin Powell didn't receive that much mail.) Mrs. Kelly wrote often and kept Spot informed of the goings on around town. Jack, David and Chris wrote when they could, but school kept them quite busy.

He'd received two letters from Mrs. Higgins. Her memories of Sunday dinners at the Higgins house made him homesick. He missed the days when he, Tony, Mush and the others would sit around the Higgins table eating, laughing and listening to Mr. Higgins tell slightly exaggerated, and extremely funny stories. (Spot always thought that Tony got his sense of humor from his Dad.) These memories made Spot miss Mush's friendship even more.

It was the letters from Tony that kept Spot going. Tony had written faithfully. Spot received at least two if his letters each week. They shared their thoughts, their secrets, and even their fears. Nobody but Tony ever realized that Spot had fears. They all thought of him as callous and afraid of nothing.

Nobody could read Spot like Tony.

* * *

Spot hoped that the years would have softened Mush's animosity.

They had not.

"Will you look at this?" Reggie said as she entered the gym. "I feel like I've just been transported back in time. The only thing missing is the smell of Clearasil, and the Metallica music."

"How's my favorite penguin these days?" Spot asked as he gave Reggie a hug.

"That's Sister Regina to you" she laughed. "So watch your step, young man. I'm in charge of detention around here now."

"Yes Ma'am!" Spot said as he raised his hands in surrender.

"Hey, Reg" Dutchy said as he and Specs came down from the bleachers.

Reggie had to crane her neck to look up at them. The top of her head came to about the middle of their chests.

Dutchy reached down and picked Reggie off the floor to give her a kiss. Specs did the same, but then made no attempt to put her down.

After a few moments with her feet dangling Reggie said, "You can put me down now."

"Your light as a feather" Specs laughed. "I can hold you up like this all day."

Reggie reached up and twisted his ear.

Specs let out a slight screech as he lowered Reggie to the floor. "Damn! She really is a nun!" he exclaimed. "Attila used to do that to me all the time."

"Whom do you think taught me that move?" she said proudly. Then Reggie noticed Mush standing off to the side.

"Michael, it's good to see you again. I don't think that I've seen you since Parents Night."

"Parents Night?" Tony asked.

"Yes. Michael has a daughter enrolled in our day care center. His mother runs the program for us. You remember Mrs. Meyers, don't you Tony?"

"Well, I surely do!" exclaimed Chris. "She made the best cherry pie that I ever tasted!"

"Whoever said that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach must have been talking about you!" Tony exclaimed.

"Come on, Tony. You know full well that the way to my heart is definitely not through my stomach," Chris said as wiggled his eyebrows.

A collective "Ewwwww" was expressed from around the room.

"Now do you see what I mean, Dutchy? There they're at it again," Jack chuckled.

"I'm beginning to think that you're right, Cowboy. Those two are definitely not normal!"

Spot watched as his friends all laughed and teased each other. All except for Mush. Mush's body was tense. His shoulders were pulled up in a defensive position. It was obvious that he wanted to be any place but there. Spot decided to make another attempt at speaking with him.

"So you have a kid now, Mush? How old is she?"

"She's 31/2."

"Then I take it you're married?"

"Divorced."

"So then you and the ex-Mrs. Mush share custody of . . . ?"

"My daughter's name is Kate, and her mother is not in the picture."

"Her name is Kate? So then you named her aft'a your Ma?"

"Yeah."

"Are ya livin' in town now, Mushie?"

"What the hell! . . .Is this, an interrogation?" Mush spat. "Well, let me make it easier for you _Officer_ _Conlon_. I was married for six years. My ex-wife was a psycho junkie whore, who couldn't stand the sight of me, and who hated our daughter. I was granted full custody, but I wasn't able to work and properly care for my child. I am fortunate enough to have a mother who gives a damn so we moved in with her. I work in the Athletics Department at Boyer High while my mother takes care of my daughter. Is there any other information you require, _Officer Conlon_?"

Spot was floored. Mush let him have it with both barrels. Time hadn't softened Mush. It only made him more hostile.

"Whoa . . . Way to be defensive, Mush" Dutchy called out.

"And how's your coke habit these days, Doctor?" Mush spat.

Specs saw red. He wasn't about to let anyone, even an old friend, talk to Dutchy that way. Sure Dutchy was an addict. He almost died when he was on drugs. Dutchy fought hard to get clean, and he had stayed clean.

Specs took a few steps toward Mush but Dutchy stopped him.

Dutchy could see that Mush was deliberately trying to start a fight, and it didn't matter with whom. Something was troubling Mush. Something more than Spot's questions or Dutchy's teasing. Mush was hurting, and fighting would only make things worse.

"I'm doing okay, Mush" Dutchy said calmly. "I was pretty bad for a while, but with Specs help, I've been clean for more than twelve years. With his help, I plan to stay that way."

Dutchy's honesty had completely disarmed Mush.

"I'm happy for you, Dutchy. I really am" Mush said remorsefully. "It's good that you had somebody to help you get through all that."

"Thanks, Mush" Dutchy replied as he rubbed Specs tense neck muscles. Then he led Specs back over to the bleachers.

"Okay," said Tony. "Now that we've settled that, can we get back to the business of why we are all here? . . . Were you able to find out anything, Reggie?"

"Wait a minute," Chris said as he put his fingers back into his ears. "La, la, la, la, la."

"What the hell is that nut-job doin'?" Spot cackled.

"Don't ask!" David replied. "I'll explain later. Go ahead, Reg."

"It seems that the sum of $10,000.00 was added to Mr. Weissel's retirement account about 16 months ago. Then another $5,000.00 was added last June. Here's a copy of the transactions."

Tony and David examined the statement.

"Well, whadda you think, Dave?" Tony asked.

"I think that we've just found a large chunk of the puzzle," David said with a grin. "What do you think Chris?"

"La, la, la, la,"

"Chris!" David shouted as he gave him a push.

"What?"

"Jack. You tell him. Do that undisclosed sources thingy that you do."

"Oh, David," Jack murmured. "I just love it when you use technical words like thingy. It makes me all warm inside."

"Jesse, Cowboy" Dutchy groaned. "You're beginning to sound like Racetrack now!"

"Come on, Jack" Chris said impatiently. "Spill it!"

"I have been informed by an undisclosed source that over the past 16 months the sum of $15,000.00 has been added to the retirement account of a certain janitor that we all know and loath. As it is highly unlikely that said janitor had such a large amount of money lying around his trailer, I think that we can safely assume he was given the money."

"But why would anyone want to give Weasel money?" Specs asked. "What does he have that's worth $15,000.00?"

"I want to make some phone calls about this," Chris said as he looked at his watch. "It's too late tonight, so it will have to wait until the morning."

"Good!" Reggie exclaimed. "If there is nothing more that we can do tonight, then I want you all to go out into the hall and start bringing in those boxes!"

"What boxes, Sis?" Tony asked.

"The boxes that are out in the hall, Brother Dear."

They all followed Reggie out of the gym and found a stack of at least a dozen cartons.

"What the hell is all this stuff?" Tony asked.

" I dunno what's in the boxes," Spot laughed. "But I found a cooler full 'a beer over here."

"Beer, Sis?"

"Will you please just help me out and bring these things into the gym?"

"Anything for you, Reg" Dutchy said as he grabbed a box with each arm.

After everything had been moved into the gym, Tony began to examine the cartons.

"Sleeping bags, food, and beer? What's all this for, Sis?"

"Well, I was talking to Brother Joseph about how close you guys were back in school. It reminded me of the time when you were all supposed to go on that camping trip, but you got rained out and had to spend the night here in the gym."

"Get to the point, Sis!"

"Well, I thought that it would be nice to recreate that night for you. Won't that be fun?"

"Oh No!" Tony protested. "Chris and I have reservations at the best hotel in town."

"It's the only hotel in town" Spot interjected.

"Be that as it may," Tony hissed "The point is that we have a reservation and there is a hot bath with my name on it awaiting our arrival!"

"Well, you don't have a reservation anymore," Reggie said sternly. "I cancelled it. And you don't need a bath. You can take a shower in the locker room. And before you say anything, Jack Kelly, I cancelled your reservation as well."

"Sorry, Reggie, but I have to get home to Katie," Mush insisted.

"No, you don't, Michael. That's all been taken care of. I spoke with your mother the other day, and she thought that this was a wonderful idea. She said to tell you that if you try to come home before tomorrow morning, she's going to throw all of your belongings out of the window onto the lawn. I don't think that she was kidding either."

"She wasn't," Mush grumbled. "My mother doesn't make idle threats."

"An over-nighter sounds like it could be interesting," Specs laughed. "We'll give it a try!"

"There's plenty'a beer ta go around, so you can count me in" Spot said.

"Come on, Tony" Chris said as gave Tony that smile that always went straight to Tony's heart. "Think about it. You and me, all curled up in a sleeping bag? It sounds like fun!"

"Well it doesn't look like we have much of a choice," Tony grumbled.

"Try not to sound too excited," Reggie said sarcastically.

"Ya know something, Sis? You're sounding more like Mama every day!"

"Come on, Race. Take off that Armani undertaker's suit and relax!" Spot urged as he threw Tony a beer.

Tony took another look at the boxes then looked at Reggie. "Where did you get this stuff, Sis? These sleeping bags and the camping gear are all new."

"Did I forget to thank you and Chris for the generous donation to the Pulitzer Camping Club?" Reggie smiled.

Chris burst out laughing. "Looks like she got you again, Tony!"

"She always does!" Tony grumbled.

After a while the fellas all kicked off their shoes and settled in. Tony even took off his suit and slipped into his old and comfortable sweats.

"Okay guys" David said. "Let's get back to the story about the night Jack and Chris came out."

Jack shook his head and smiled. "That's a night none of us will ever forget."

**END - CHAPTER 9**

* * *

Please Read and Review 


	10. Truth and Consequence

I do not own Newsies, or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

* * *

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

* * *

I am making no money from this story. I seriously doubt the sanity of anyone who would pay money to read anything I have written.

* * *

**A/N:**

**The improved grammar and spelling in this work are courtesy of SakiSaki.** When she found out that I have Dyslexia and have difficulty proofing my own work, she graciously offered to beta-read. SakiSaki didn't merely correct these mistakes. She has explained what I am doing wrong, so I can better understand and hopefully recognize these mistakes for myself.

Please note that this isn't a shout-out. As we all know, they are no longer permitted. (And we would never do anything against the rules . . . cough, cough.) This is giving credit for work well done.

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Truth and Consequence**

Chris sat waiting for his mother to return from her business trip. When he heard her car pull into the driveway, Chris thought he was going to be sick.

He watched uncomfortably as his mother lit a cigarette and sorted through the mail.

"It's now or never," Chris thought as he took a deep breath and began to speak.

"Mom, I know that you must be tired from your trip and all, but I need to speak with you about something."

"Its okay honey. What do you want to talk about?"

"Well, I've been thinking a lot about who I am and how I want to live my life."

"Oh Chris, this is wonderful. You've finally made some decisions about college. What schools do you have in mind?"

"No, Mom, this isn't about college. I'm talking about me. Who I am, and what I am."

"Okay, Chris. Go on."

"Well, you know how I used to bring home a lot of different girls, and lately I haven't brought anyone home? Well, I have been seeing someone, but we've been keeping it kind of quiet. I wasn't sure just how to tell you."

The color drained from Mrs. Hunters face. "Christopher Hunter! Please don't tell me you did something stupid like get some girl pregnant?"

Chris's started to laugh. For a moment the thought of Tony being pregnant flashed through his mind. Chris could picture him wearing a maternity top and sitting with his swollen feet up on a chair. The thought of Tony fanning himself with one hand and waving around a pickle on a fork with the other was quite amusing.

"No, Mother, I didn't get anyone pregnant!"

"Then why would you want to keep this girl a secret from me? She's not some sort of a minority is she?"

"What do you mean some sort of a minority?"

"You know very well what I mean, Christopher. I have seen your friends you know. What about that Michael Meyers. The boy with all that kinky hair and no father."

"Way to stereotype, Mom. Mush had a father. He died when Mush was three. Mr. Meyers worked with Tony's dad over at the newspaper plant."

"Please, Chris. Don't even get me started on that Higgins family."

"What do you have against Racetrack's family?"

"They are foreigners you know."

"You mean as apposed to us? What are we, Native Americans or something? I guess that's where all this blond hair and the blue eyes came from. I suppose that our family was waiting on the shore when Christopher Colombus arrived?"

"Don't be flip, Christopher. You know those foreigners only come to this country to take away our jobs. They make all the money they can here, then go back to their own countries and live like royalty."

"This _is_ their country, Mother. Mr. and Mrs. Higgins _are_ Americans. They're naturalized citizens. As a matter of fact, they met in citizenship class while they were studying to become Americans."

"That's another thing. Those two aren't even from the same country. He's Irish and she's Italian. I don't know how those half-breed children of theirs ever learned to speak English between his accent and hers!"

Chris leaped out of his chair. "Don't you ever call Racetrack a half-breed! EVER!"

"Christopher Donald Hunter! Don't you dare use that tone with me!"

"Well, Mom. You'd better get used to Racetrack and his family because you're going to be seeing a lot of them. You know that girl you were so afraid I got pregnant? Well, it isn't a girl. It's Tony!"

For a few seconds, Chris was distracted by his own words. Did I just tell my mother that I got Race pregnant?

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Brace yourself, Mom. I'm gay, and Racetrack is my boyfriend!"

"That's not funny, Chris. Just because I don't like your friends and their questionable families is no reason to try and upset me."

"Upset you? Well, then you'd better go take some of that Valium you're so fond of because it's true. Your son is gay! I am a card carrying, died in the wool, honest to goodness homosexual! I like boys. I like one boy in particular. His name is Racetrack Higgins. And if I had my way, those foreigners and their half-breed son would someday be your in-laws!"

Mrs. Hunter was filled with rage and slapped Chris across the face.

The shock of the blow stunned Chris for only a moment. "It didn't work, Mom," he mocked. "You can't slap this out of me."

"That's it!" she shouted. "I forbid you to see any of those degenerates again. You'll be lucky if I let you leave this house before you are thirty!"

"What do your mean, "degenerates"?"

"First you bring home those two fairies Decks and Scutchy-"

"Their names are Specs and Dutchy, Mom."

"I don't care what their names are! You were normal before you started hanging around with them . . . Chris, did they do something to you? Did you let them touch you?"

"My god, Mom. Are you insane? Nobody did anything to me. I'm gay. Nobody made me this way, and locking me in my room isn't going to change that!"

"This is all your father's fault."

"Damn-it, Mom. First it was my friends' fault, and now it's Dad's fault. Can't you get it through your head that it's nobody's fault? This is just the way things are."

"If you had a good male influence around, you wouldn't be acting this way. Your father is a degenerate, and he passed it along to you. If he didn't parade all those whores around in front of you, then maybe you would know what a healthy sexual relationship is."

"Well, maybe if you'd had a healthy sexual relationship, Dad wouldn't have turned to all of those whores!"

The second he said it Chris knew that he'd crossed the line. Chris' mother did have issues. That was abundantly clear. But Chris' father was a bastard, and there was nothing she could have done to change that.

Mrs. Hunter hit Chris across the mouth with the back of her hand, splitting his lip and sending him crashing into the china cabinet. When his back hit the door, a shower of glass came crashing down around him.

Mrs. Hunter's knees went weak at seeing her son showered in glass.

"What's the matter, Mom? Didn't you and Dad hurt me enough the first time? Are you trying to finish me off now?"

Chris ran down the stairs, and out the front door. He needed to be with Tony now more than ever.

* * *

As always, Tony's friends were at the Higgins home.

"So, Jack. Your mom wasn't upset when you told her about you and Davey?" Irish asked.

"Nah. She seemed kind of happy about it. She said that Dave is a good influence on me. But then it got kind of creepy when she started giving me the sex talk. Although she definitely thinks it's a plus that I'm not going to get Dave pregnant!"

"That's disgusting," David cringed.

"Yeah. That's what I thought," Jack replied. "My skin hasn't stopped crawling yet!"

"Well, I told my parents about abut Blink and me," Tony said. "And as usual my father already knew. I think that man's got E.S.P. or something."

"That's not it," said Irish. " It's just that the two of you are so damn obvious!"

"Well, we're not the only ones," Tony laughed. "Dad said that he'd had suspicions about Jack and Dave too. He said that he's thinking about having the town's water supply tested because there seems to be an awful lot of us around here . . . You do know that he was only kidding, right guys?"

"Duh!" Spot replied.

Mush shoved Spot off the arm of the couch and took his place. "Yeah," Mush said as he and Spot wrestled for possession of the seat. "But think about it you guys. There does seem to be an awful lot of gay guys around here."

"My dad says that it only seems like that because we're all friends and we hang around together. I read somewhere that one out of every ten guys is gay. When you figure that there are about 245 guys at Pulitzer, then theoretically there should be 241/2 gay guys at our school. There are probably a lot more of us than we think."

"Hey, Race," Jack mused. "You said there should be 241/2 of us right? Well, don't you ever wonder who the other half a guy is."

A collective "Shut up Jack!" sounded from around the room.

"It's not as though we are all gay," said Irish. "Look at Mush, Itey, Reggie, and me. We're not gay."

"Neither am I," said Spot. "I'm bi!"

"Hey, Race. If Spot is bi, does that make him the half'a gay guy in that statistic of yours?" Jack laughed.

Spot lunged and got Jack in a headlock. "What it means is dat I'm an individual. Not a freakin' follower like you, Jackie-boy."

"You're just greedy," Jack replied. "You want to eat off of everybody's plate!"

"Well, why should anyone be deprived of the glory that is me!" Spot proclaimed.

"Bite me!" Jack grumbled.

"You wish!" Spot laughed.

"Come on Mushie-boy," Spot said as he dragged Mush off of the couch. "I need to have a smoke, and you can keep me company."

"That's a disgusting habit," Mush said as he and Spot headed up the stairs. "You should really think about giving it up."

"Bite me, muscle-boy!" Spot grumbled.

"You wish, skinny!" Mush replied.

Mr. and Mrs. Higgins were in the kitchen having their tea when Chris came to the door. His complexion was gray, and he was shaking all over. His lip was split, and he had some bloody scratches from the broken glass.

"My god, Christopher. What happened to you?" Mrs. Higgins gasped as she checked out his face.

Chris didn't answer right away. He wasn't of sure where to begin.

"Anthony!" Mr. Higgins called. "We need you to come up here right away!"

"Oh Crap!" said Tony. "He called me Anthony, and that's never a good sign"

Mrs. Higgins grabbed a washcloth and was cleaning Chris's lip and scratches when Tony reached the kitchen.

"Blink! What the fuck happened? Are you all right?"

"Dam, Race, it was just awful. I tried to explain but she wouldn't listen. She said that I was a degenerate and that she was going to lock me away until I was thirty. She made cracks about Mush's hair, and Dad's girlfriends and Decks and Scutchy and . . ."

"Slow down, Blink," Tony urged. "You're not making any sense."

"She called you a half-breed, Race. It was awful."

"Okay Gabby," Mr. Higgins said gently. "Calm down and start at the beginning."

Chris held onto Tony's hand and tried his best to remain calm. He told them everything that happened.

Tony's friends crept up the stairs, trying to hear what was going on. By the time Chris had finished, they were all huddled in the doorway, jockeying for position.

Spot and Mush were still sitting outside when Mrs. Hunter pulled into the driveway and came to a screeching halt. She banged on the front door until Mr. Higgins let her in.

Spot and Mush followed her inside.

"Christopher, get in the car right now!" she demanded.

"No. I'm not going with you!"

"Christopher, get in the damn car or I'll . . . "

"Or you'll what?" Tony asked. "Or you'll hit him again? Maybe you'd like to try pushing him through one of our glass doors while you're at it!"

"Anthony! That's enough!" Mrs. Higgins warned.

"That was an accident!" Mrs. Hunter shouted. "And besides, this is none of your business."

"The hell it isn't," Tony hissed. "Blink _is _my business!"

"Anthony, be quiet!" Mrs. Higgins snapped. "Please, Mrs. Hunter, sit down so we can discuss this calmly."

"This is between me and my son!" she answered. "I'm not about to discuss this with the likes of you."

"The likes of them?" Spot's voice boomed from behind.

"Oh Sweet Jesus! Another county heard from," Mr. Higgins grumbled.

Spot stepped forward and locked eyes with Mrs. Hunter "Whadda ya mean the likes of them, you tight-ass bitch?"

Mr. Higgins gave a Spot a rap on the behind with his walking stick. "Mrs. Hunter is a guest in our home" he said calmly. "We don't speak to our guests that way do we, Spot?"

"I'd be willin' ta make an exception in her case!" Spot shouted.

"Okay now," said Mrs. Higgins. "I want all you children to go down stairs while Mr. Higgins and I have a chat with Chris' mother." Then she herded them to the stairs, and closed the door.

"Please take a seat, Mrs. Hunter," Tony's mother said reassuringly. "I will pour you a nice cup of tea, and we can discuss this."

"With all due respect, Mrs. Higgins, this is none of your business. I had absolutely no problem with my son until we moved here, and he started hanging around with those children."

"By those children, do you mean my half-breed son, and his degenerate minority friends?" Mr. Higgins asked sarcastically.

"I'm sorry that Christopher told you that. It was an unfortunate choice of words. I was angry at the time."

"I take no offense, Mrs. Hunter. My wife and I are quite proud of our half-breed children. We have taught Anthony and Regina to be proud of both their mother's culture and of mine. They are kind, polite, and intelligent. Both are well liked and get excellent grades in school. I don't think that we did a bad job of raising our children. For a couple of foreigners that is."

"Be that as it may, Mr. Higgins, the fact remains that since he has been hanging around with them, my son thinks that he is a homosexual. You may not mind having a son who is like that, but I'm not going to let him turn Christopher into a . . . a . . . "

"A homo, a fag, a puff?"

"Those are your words, Mr. Higgins, not mine. Now just let me get my son and we will be out of here."

"You're not taking Chris anywhere!" Mrs. Higgins spat as she bounced a teacup in front of Chris's mother. "Now just calm down, and drink your tea."

"What do you mean I'm not taking Chris anywhere? He's my son. You can't keep him here against my will. I'll call the police!"

"Well if you don't call them I will!" Mrs. Higgins replied. "I'm sure that they would be very interested to hear how you hit your son and then pushed him through a glass cabinet. Or maybe I should call Father Collins? I'm sure that he would find it enlightening to know how the president of the church's Mother's League deals with a major issue in her child's life. Better still, maybe I should call Kate Meyers? You know her don't you, Mrs. Hunter? She is the mother of the sweet boy you referred to as the minority with all the kinky hair and no father. Mrs. Meyers also works for Child Protective Services. I'm sure that she would find Chris' split lip and glass cuts very interesting."

"Dat's tellin' her, Mrs. H.!" Spot hollered through the family room door.

Mr. Higgins took his walking stick and smacked it against the door. "That's enough out of you, Spot!" he called back. "And back down the stairs with all of you!"

"So what are you going to do? Keep my son here forever?"

"No, but we are going to keep him here tonight," Mrs. Higgins said firmly. "Then tomorrow after you've both had some time to calm yourselves, we are all going to sit down and discuss this."

"And you expect me to let Chris sleep here with your son. The one he refers to as his boyfriend? It isn't decent."

"Jesus, Mary, and Saint Joseph give me strength," Mr. Higgins sighed. "Mrs. Hunter, this is our home. It is not Sodom and Gomorrah. I give you my word that there will be no Hanky-panky in this house."

Against her better judgement, Mrs. Hunter agreed to let Chris stay the night. "I'll be back here the first thing tomorrow morning," she hissed. "And he is going to leave with me no matter what you say!" Then Mrs. Hunter stormed out of the house slamming the front door as she left.

Mr. Higgins sneaked up to the family room door and quickly pulled it open. Spot, Tony, Chris, and the others all tumbled out onto the floor.

"Will you look at this?" Mr. Higgins laughed. "I hit the jackpot!"

After everyone was gone, Chris and Tony settled in for the night. Mrs. Higgins brought in an extra pillow and blanket, and they both stretched out on Tony's bedroom floor.

They remained silent, with Chris curled up in Tony's arms.

Eventually, Chris broke the silence. "Race, how come you never asked me what happened to my eye?"

"Cause I figured that you'd tell me when you were ready."

"I think that I'm ready now," Chris said.

"Do you remember when I told you about my birthday party? The one where everyone saw Dad screwing my best friend's mom? Well, Dad's little show turned out to be the high point of the evening. It went downhill from there. Mrs. Cooper ran naked past all of my friends and locked herself in the bathroom. Dad pulled on his clothes and pushed past everyone to get downstairs. When they got to the kitchen, Mom started hitting him and he started pushing her. All of our neighbors had a great view of them from the patio. It looked like that T.V. show where the cops get called out to the trailer park on Saturday night."

"I think I saw that episode," Tony smiled. His remark was a vain attempt to ease Chris' tension.

"I tried to break them apart, and I got shoved into the sliding glass door. It cut through my pants and into my right leg. That's how I got those two scars on my thigh. But one of the pieces of glass went through my lid and into the eye."

The thought of Chris being bloody and mangled turned Tony's stomach. He could feel his chest tighten as he tried not to cringe.

"I woke up in the hospital with 57 stitches in my leg, and a bandage over my eye. They were able to save it, but the eye is useless. I can't see anything out of it, and it's really fuckin' ugly. The first time they saw it both of my parents turned away. I haven't let anyone see me without the patch since . . . Until now that is . . . Race, I want you to see it."

"You don't have to do this Blink," Tony assured him.

"I know I don't have to, but I want to. I came out to my mother tonight. It sucked but I did it. I don't want to have any more secrets. Especially not from you. Ugly or not, this eye is a part of me. We can't have much of a relationship if I am afraid to show you who I really am."

Chris reached up and slid off the patch. It took a few seconds before he could look at Tony. In the back of his mind, Chris was afraid that Tony would turn away like both of his parents had.

Tony didn't turn away. He examined every inch. A jagged scar covered the lid and continued out to the corner. The lid blinked in unison with the other, but it drooped and didn't open all the way. The eye had very little movement, and the color was almost gray from the scarring.

Tony reached up and traced the scar with his finger. The touch made Chris' body tense as he gasped in a breath.

Chris couldn't take Tony's silence any longer.

"Well, Race?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, what do you think?"

"I think that I am the luckiest guy in the world to have you as a boyfriend. I don't understand how you could think this would make a difference to me. I love you Blink. All of you. Nothing is going to change that. Especially not something like this."

Relief flowed through Chris' mind and body as he slumped against Tony.

Tony lay back down on the floor and pulled Chris's head against his chest. "Everything is going to be okay, Blink. You'll see. I'm not going to let anything separate us. I promise."

In the morning, Tony and Chris stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Sitting at the table were Tony's parents and Kate Meyers. Mr. and Mrs. Higgins had decided that calling Mush's mom was their best recourse. They weren't trying to cause Chris' mother any trouble, but it was obvious that both Mrs. Hunter and Chris needed help. Mrs. Meyers was trained to handle these situations.

Mrs. Meyers took Chris to the family room for a talk. When they returned to the kitchen, Chris saw his mother sitting calmly and drinking a cup of coffee. Kate Meyers had called Mrs. Hunter and explained that she wanted to speak with both her and Chris that morning.

"I have spoken with Chris and have assured him that I am not here to get you into any trouble, Mrs. Hunter. Chris has also expressed some concerns about his future. The first is that he is afraid he is going to be separated from Tony. The second is your refusal to accept his sexual preference. Christopher has asked about becoming an independent minor. I have assured him that although it is an option it is definitely too early for that."

Mrs. Hunter almost dropped her coffee cup at the thought of being separated from her son. She loved Chris and was not about to lose him. Chris' new chosen lifestyle went against everything she believed in, but he was the most important thing in her life. Mrs. Hunter agreed to begin counseling immediately.

After a few quick phone calls, Kate Meyers arranged for Chris and his mother to see the therapist that afternoon.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Chris almost cried from relief when he heard the news.

* * *

"Gee, Blink," Specs said. " I never knew that Scutchy and I were so unpopular over at your house."

"Now be fair, Decks," Dutchy laughed. "It isn't Blink's fault that his mom didn't like us. After all we did turn him into a fairy. He was normal until he started bringing us around."

"Screw you both!" Chris chuckled.

"According to that story, your mother did think you screwed both of us," Specs teased.

Chris was grateful when Reggie returned and took the attention away from him.

"Hey guys!" Regie called through the crack in the door. "Is everyone decent in there?"

"We're all dressed if that's what you mean," Spot called back. "But ain't nobody decent in this bunch."

Reggie propped open the door with a boom box and then rolled in a library cart stacked with pizza boxes. "I hope you're all hungry, because there is more than enough to go around."

Tony searched his suit jacket for his wallet. "How much ya need, Sis?" Tony asked.

"You can put your money away. This isn't going to cost you a cent."

"That's a switch!" Tony grinned.

"Very funny, Brother Dear. It just so happens that Brother Joseph paid this time. When I told him that I more or less kidnaped all of you, he said that the least he could do was to feed you. He didn't want you dying of starvation before you were paroled tomorrow."

"I think I'm gonna like this guy!" Tony said as he closed his wallet.

**END CHAPTER 10**


	11. Mysteries Revealed

I do not own Newsies, or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

* * *

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

* * *

I am making no money from this story. I seriously doubt the sanity of anyone who would pay money to read anything I have written.

* * *

**Beta Credit goes to SakiSaki for her exceptional patience and editing skills.**

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.

* * *

**CHAPTER 11 - MYSTERIES REVEALED**

Reggie couldn't help laughing when the guys all ran toward the pizza boxes. They looked more like the kids she remembered than the men they had become.

"Sit back down, you piranha," Reggie scolded using her official Sister Regina voice. "I promised Brother Joseph that I would read you this note before anybody ate."

_Gentlemen,_

_I hope that your stay in Sister Regina's boot camp isn't too unbearable. I thought that some music and food would make your stay a little more comfortable._

_I know that Sister Regina can be a tough taskmaster. She is used to getting her own way. She . . . She . . . _

Reggie stood staring at the note while tears welled in her eyes.

"What's wrong Sis?" Tony asked as he got to his feet.

Reggie looked at him with tear filled eyes and held out the note.

Tony took the note and scanned to the part that had upset her. His face turned crimson as he continued the letter out loud.

_I know that Sister Regina can be a tough task master. She is used to getting her own way. She must have been very spoiled as a child. My theory is that she was raised by an overindulgent and all too permissive family._

"Overindulgent and permissive family!" he shouted. "Who does this guy think he is? You were raised by a damn good family! And where the hell is this son of a bitch! He comes up with the idea of this investigation and you do all the work? Why isn't he taking some of the risks?"

"Tony, would you talk to him for me? Please?" Reggie whimpered.

"Damn right I'm gonna talk to him!"

"Thank you, Tony," Reggie said as the put her arms around him. "You wait here and I'll go get him."

Reggie walked toward the door, but she didn't leave the room. Instead she stopped and pushed the play button on the boom box. "Tony Dear, I'd like you to meet Brother Joseph!"

Suddenly, a small-framed man came running past Reggie and slid across the gym floor. He was dressed in nothing but white sox, a white shirt, and white cotton briefs.

"What the fuck?" said Tony.

"It's Itey!" shouted Jack. "Son of a bitch! It's Itey!"

It was Itey. He was dressed like Tom Cruise in the movie _Risky Business_. He was dancing around to the tune of _Old Time Rock and Roll_ just as he had fifteen years earlier at their rained out camping trip.

Reggie leaned against the doorframe and smiled as Specs, Dutchy, David, and Chris all joined in the dance.

Though it took a moment for him to calm down, Tony was soon laughing along with the rest.

When the song was over Reggie threw Itey his sweats. "Good job Itey," she called.

Tony glared at Reggie. He was standing with his arms folded tight across his chest. He looked like a father who was about to punish an impertinent child.

"Oh give it up, Tony," she laughed. "You're just too easy. You fell for that crying routine when I was five years old and you're still falling for it."

"She's right, You are too easy," Chris said as he hugged Tony from behind. "But that's one of the things I love best about you!"

"Excuse me Sister Regina," Tony grinned. "Should you be looking at him without his pants on? I know that they've relaxed the rules a bit, but is there anything in the nun's handbook that says you're allowed to host parties with exotic male dancers?"

"Oh grow up, Tony," Reggie gigged. "Now I'm going to say goodnight to you boys. Have a good time and play nice!"

They all called back in unison, "Good Night Sister Regina!"

"Damn, Itey. It's good to see ya," Jack said. "But I never expected to see this much of ya! I don't think that I've laid eyes on you since you and Spot left for boot camp."

"Oh Itey?" Tony called as he walked across the room. "My pal, by buddy, my childhood friend?"

"Yes Racetrack?"

"What the hell are you doing parading in front of my sister without your damn pants on!"

"We've been having this same discussion since we were twelve years old," Itey grinned. "But it won't work this time, Race. I'm not afraid of you anymore."

"And why not?"

Just then Itey removed the white shirt to reveal a large strong chest and a sea of bulging muscles.

"I spent ten years in the Marine Corps pal. Compared to that, you are a rank amateur!"

"Wow! Will you look at that?" David said with his eyes bugging out. "Itey's got more muscles that Mush!"

"Hey, hey! Watch where you're looking," Jack warned as he covered David's eyes.

"Don't worry, Jack," David smiled. "You know that I go for the long and lean type."

"Well, what the hell is all this Brother Joseph bullshit?" Tony asked as he reached to shake Itey's hand.

"It's no bullshit, Race. I joined the Brotherhood three years ago."

"Well, you shocked the hell out of me," Tony laughed. "I sure didn't see this one coming!"

"I'm surprised that you didn't figure it out, Race. I thought that out of everybody you would know who Brother Joseph was."

"How could I know what you were up to?"

"Come on, Race. You are half Italian, aren't you? My real name is Giuseppe. That's Italian for Joseph."

"He's got you there, Tony," Chris laughed. "I think that I just heard your mother turn over in her grave."

"Damn, Itey," said Spot. " I thought that you were never gonna show y'self. I was beginnin' ta think ya fell asleep in that office'a yours."

"Are you saying that you were in on this gag, Spot?" Jack asked.

"Hell yea! But I didn't know that we was gonna get a floor show out'a it."

"Spot wasn't the only one who knew," said Dutchy.

"Yeah." Specs grinned. "Somebody had to send that letter and make the phone calls,"

"Well, why the conspiracy?" asked Chris.

"Itey contacted me and Spot about their suspicions," Specs explained. "They wanted us to check it out unofficially. We knew that we were going to need your help, so we decided to have some fun with it. The camp out was Reggie and Itey's idea. We didn't know about that until this morning."

"Well, why the hell am I here?" Mush grumbled. "I understand why they needed help from the rest of you, but why me? Why the hell am I being forced to take this walk down memory lane?"

"That was your mother's idea," Itey explained. "She thought that you needed to be here."

"This is bullshit!" Mush shouted.

Spot decided that he'd had enough of Mush's attitude. "Maybe your mom thought that we would benefit from your shining personality," Spot said sarcastically.

"Screw you, Conlon!" Mush yelled as he got to his feet.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Spot replied. "I've been takin' your shit for more than fifteen years now and I don't even know why!"

"You lying son of a bitch," Mush hissed as he lunged for Spot.

It took Jack, Specs, Itey, and Tony to separate the two.

"Come on Mush. Will you please tell us what this is all about?" Tony asked.

"You know damn well what this is about. All of you!"

"None of us know what the fuck you're talkin' about," Spot grumbled. "You've had a bug up your ass since high school. I've tried to talk and ya wouldn't let me. I wrote you more times than I can count, and ya sent the letters back unopened. We were all friends since we was kids. I think that we're da ones who should be pissed at you for treatin' us like crap!"

"I've got to be honest with you, Mushie, I don't remember much about that last year of high school," Dutchy assured him. "I was strung out most of the time. I really don't remember what we did to you."

Mush knew that Dutchy was telling the truth. Dutchy was almost always high that last year. Mush ignored the others and spoke directly to him.

"Do you remember when Jack was trying to get elected president of the student council?"

"Some of it," Dutchy answered. " But I was pretty self absorbed back then, and I'd just started using."

"Well, ask your pals what happened. I'm sure Spot will enjoy telling the story. He always has!"

With that Mush grabbed a beer and went to sit on the far side of the gym.

* * *

Irish had gone before the student council to nominate Jack for president.

None of the council members knew what to do. It was so close to the election, and they already had two candidates campaigning for president. One was a football player named Jake Noonan. He was a buddy of the Delanceys. The other was Swifty Steaken. Swifty was a decent guy. He was a member of the track team, and president of a couple of clubs on campus. Everybody was sure that Swifty was going to win the election.

After much discussion the council chose to let the student body decide. In order to be added to the ballot, Jack would need the signatures of at least half of the student population. If he succeeded, then there would be three candidates to choose from on election day.

Irish immediately took charge. She wrote, typed, and printed the petition and gave copies to all of their group. She made up a schedule and assigned everyone specific times and places where the most students would be available. Irish had everything covered including classes, lunch, clubs, and athletic events. She even had Spot, Mush, and David covering the parking lot before and after school.

Thanks to Irish they had more than enough signatures to get Jack on the ballot.

With one week to go everyone jumped into action.

Jack went around shaking hands and generally schmoozing the Pulitzer population. The rest of the group hung posters, handed out fliers, and sang Jack's praises to everyone within an earshot.

They found Chris was especially good at winning people over. He would flash that smile of his, and convince people why they should vote for Jack. His success rate was outstanding. Mr. Higgins always said "That boy can talk the ears off an elephant, and leave the animal feeling grateful for the experience."

Two days before the election a rally was held to allow each of the candidates the opportunity to make a speech before the student body.

Almost everyone from Pulitzer was in attendance. The school band was playing, and some of the students were carrying signs with the names of their chosen candidates.

Jack, Swifty, and Jake were each assigned a classroom where they could relax and prepare before their speeches.

Jack was surrounded by all of his friends. After a while, Irish decided that they'd better go and get their seats. "Everyone spread out," she said. "Make yourselves visible out there. And be loud about it. We want to convince as many people as we can to vote for Jack."

Spot and David stayed behind to give Jack moral support. Eventually Spot got the message that Jack wanted to be alone with David, so he left as well. It was then that he noticed Oscar and Morris going into the room that was assigned to Swifty.

Spot sneaked up to the door and looked through the small window. Inside he could see Swifty and his friend Dom Bumlets. Bumlets was the acting president of the student council, and was running for his second term as treasurer. They both stood as they were approached by the Delanceys.

"The way we figure it is you have the best shot at winning this election," Morris said to Swifty. "Me and Oscar are willing to vote for you but we don't want you making any changes around here. Especially where those queers are concerned. We don't want Kelly and his fagot friends runnin' this place. If the rules stay as they are, we can keep those freaks out of all school events. Maybe we can even force them out of this school completely. So if you know what's good for you the council members will do as we say. We wouldn't want you and your buddy over here having any unfortunate accidents. Do you understand?"

Spot slipped down the hall and around the corner before the Delanceys could see him. When they were gone, he went back to the door and again looked inside.

"What are you going to do?" Bumlets asked.

"What do you think I'm going to do?" Swifty replied.

When the time came Jack, Swifty, and Jake were all seated on the stage. Bumlets introduced each of the candidates then called upon Jake Noonan to make the first speech. Although he did receive some encouragement from his knuckle dragging friends, Jake's speech was weak and poorly received.

Then it was Swifty's turn. His speech was direct and to the point.

"In seeking the office of President, one must consider not only the honor, but the many awesome responsibilities that lie ahead. Not the least of which are the needs of the people he or she represents. No president can be effective if he has his own agenda. No president can fulfill these duties by placing needs of one group before another."

Jack began to squirm in his seat. Everyone knew that he had an agenda. It was no secret that the only reason Jack agreed to run was to change the rules that were being used against him and his friends. Jack was now regretting his decision to run.

The next part of Swifty's speech was something that few in attendance would ever forget.

"I, and at least one other person who is running for office, have been approached by certain people lobbying for their personal cause. In particular, that cause is to exclude Jack Kelly, and in their words, his 'fagot friends' from Pulitzer's athletic and social events. We have been told by these individuals that we are to comply with this request if we know what's good for us."

The crowd became unsettled, and Bumlets had to call for order.

"First, I would like to say that if these individuals follow through on this threat, their names will be given to the proper authorities and they will be charged. Second, I wish to withdraw my bid for president, and urge anyone who would vote for me to cast their vote for Jack Kelly. I feel that Jack will do his best to serve everyone in this school and that he will make some long overdue and necessary changes."

Two days later, Jack won by a landslide.

Mrs. Kelly agreed to let Jack and his friends throw a victory party at her home. Swifty was the first person invited.

Spot was in his glory telling everyone who would listen about what he had seen through the door the day of the rally. Spot beamed as he spoke of how the Delanceys threatened Swifty, and the look on Bumlets' face when Swifty told him what he was going to do.

"I couldn't believe my eyes," Spot recalled. "Those bastards, the Delanceys, threatening 'em like that. You should'a seen da look on his face. It was hysterical!"

Not everyone was in a celebrating mood. Dutchy arrived stoned and was making an ass of himself. Tony and Chris cornered Dutchy and confronted him about his drug use.

It didn't take long before Dutchy broke down. He admitted that it wasn't so much what the Delanceys did that was eating at him, but it was the fact that he did nothing to help Specs.

"I saw what Morris was doing and I didn't do anything to help him," Dutchy sobbed. "I just stood there watching. He has always been there for me . . . Always. It was the first time he really needed my help and I let him down."

Both Chris and Tony did their best to convince Dutchy that there was nothing that he could have done to save Specs.

"Dutchy, you're not thinking clearly" Chris assured him. "You didn't just stand there. Oscar had you pinned down and there was nothing you could do. Those bastards could have killed you both." Nothing they said could change Dutchy's mind. He was too upset and too stoned to understand.

* * *

Mush watched from across the gym as the guys discussed what happened at Jack's party. Then he downed the rest of his beer and walked back to the group.

"Well?" Mush said defiantly. "Did you tell Dutchy what happened?"

"It was a nice blast from the past, Mush," Spot grumbled. "But I still don't know why you're so pissed off."

"You bastard! You knew what they did and you didn't try to help. You stood outside that door and watched without doing anything. And stop looking so innocent. I heard you myself. 'You should'a seen the look on his face. It was hysterical!' you said. Then you all laughed. My own friends thought it was funny!"

"Well, why the hell should that piss ya off? You weren't even there when it happened. You disappeared da night of da rally. When I called your house your mom said you was sick and couldn't come to da phone. Nobody saw you again until Jack's party. Why da hell are you so pissed about me listenin' in when the Delanceys threatened Swifty and Bumlets?"

Mush just stared at Spot. None of this was making any sense.

"Well, what about the two of you?" Mush asked Tony and Chris. "I heard Dutchy telling you what happened. I heard him say how he just stood there and watched and that he didn't do anything to stop them. I don't blame him because he was too stoned to think straight, but you guys never said anything. You never even asked if I was okay."

"I don't know what you think you heard, but we weren't talking about you," Chris assured him.

"Well who the fuck were you talking about?"

"We were talking about me," Dutchy said. "I was talking about what the Delanceys did to me and Specs the night of the fall dance. I couldn't deal with what happened. I was angry and ashamed and I felt guilty for not being able to stop them from hurting Specs. Rather than getting help, I covered my feelings with coke."

Mush stood for a moment with his eyes scanning the others, and then bolted out the door with Spot close behind. The others stood up to follow but Dutchy waved them off as he followed Spot.

Mush was on his hands and knees in the snow. Fifteen years of anger and frustration now had him heaving violently. Spot was holding Mush's head as his stomach purged itself.

"Jeez it's fuckin' cold out there," Dutchy grumbled when he came back inside. Then he leaned against Specs for warmth.

"Will you please tell us what the hell happened?" Tony asked.

"The same thing that always happened," Dutchy replied. "The Delanceys happened. It seems they dragged Mush into a classroom the night of the rally. That's why he disappeared and nobody heard from him for two days. Then when he went to Jack's party he heard a couple of unrelated conversations and got the idea that Spot and I saw what happened and did nothing to help him. He got it into his head that Spot thought the whole thing was funny and was making a fool of him. He thought Race and Blink knew and didn't care. Mush thought that we all knew and didn't give a damn."

Mush and Spot came back inside and sat on the bleachers at the far end of the room.

"You mean that Mush has been carrying that inside all these years?" David asked. "No wonder he's angry. Is he going to be okay?"

"I think so. But everyone deals with crisis differently. Specs handled it okay on his own, I started taking drugs, and Mush turned his pain into hate. The difference is that I had Specs to help me through. Mush had nobody. He'd cut himself off from the people who care about him. I'm going to bring him to a meeting of a group Specs and I started for survivors like us. He's had a rough time of it, but I think that he is going to be just fine."

Specs looked over at Spot with his arm around Mush. "Looks like Mush has somebody to lean on now," he said. "I think that two of our friends got the help they needed tonight."

Mush was dazed. The seething rage he'd held onto was suddenly gone and an overwhelming feeling of emptiness took its place.

"Are ya feelin' any better Mushie-boy?" Spot asked.

Mush shook his head and shrugged.

"Ya ain't gonna get sick again, are ya?"

"No. I'm . . . I'm just trying to sort all of this out. I was so sure of everything."

Mush buried his head in his hands. "Oh god," he moaned. "This has got to be a bad dream. How could I have been so wrong? How could I be so stupid?" The desperation in his voice was heartbreaking.

Spot glanced over at their friends, and saw them all staring at Mush. Spot grabbed Mush's arm and pulled him out into the hallway. He wasn't about to let Mush be embarrassed on top of everything else.

Spot leaned Mush against the wall and held onto his shoulders. "Don't you ever let me hear you call yourself stupid again. You ain't stupid. Ya hear me? It was a mistake that's all. You couldn't help what ya heard. You were upset and your mind was playin' tricks on ya."

"I was so sure of everything. I know that it doesn't make any sense now, but I was so sure."

"It's okay, Mushie. It's over and everything is going to be fine."

"Damn-it Spot! How can you say that everything is going to be fine? Are we supposed to forget the last fifteen years ever happened? I did everything that I could to wipe our friendship out of my mind. I wanted to break you and to make you hate me as much as I hated you. I did everything I could think of to spite you. I even got married to spite you. To prove -"

"To prove that you didn't love me anymore, Mush?"

Mush just nodded his head and looked at the floor.

"And to make me sorry that I ever loved you?"

Again Mush nodded without looking up.

"Mushie, there is nothin' you could have done ta make me sorry about that. Nothin'! Yeah, ya hurt me all right. I hated that ya cut yourself off from me off and never told me why. I hated knowin' that you hated me. But I never hated you, Mushie. I tried hatin' ya, but I couldn't."

Mush's body and mind felt drained of every ounce of strength and he slid down the wall like a rag doll.

Spot sat on the floor and put his arm around Mush.

"I'm so tired," Mush whimpered.

"Then close your eyes Mushie-boy. I'll stay right here with ya. Everything is gonna be okay."

A while later, Dutchy found Itey at the end of the hall watching Spot and Mush.

"You knew about this didn't you?" Dutchy asked. "It was your idea to get them together again, wasn't it?"

"Mush's mom came to see me. She's been worried about him. She told me what she suspected, and I figured out the rest. Then when Reggie and I came up with the idea of this camp out, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to get them back together."

"Ya did good Itey," Dutchy said.

Itey smiled and went back into the gym.

Dutchy watched as Mush slept with his head on Spot's lap. Spot sat quietly looking at Mush while he stroked Mush's tight curls.

"Hows he doing?" Dutchy asked.

"He's sleepin' good," Spot answered.

"I'll sit with him for a while if you want to go back inside and get something to eat," Dutchy offered.

Spot looked up at Dutchy. "No thanks, Dutch," he said. "It's taken me fifteen years to get here . . . I ain't going anyplace."


	12. Spider Man vs The Incredible Hulk

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

* * *

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

* * *

I am making no money from this story. I seriously doubt the sanity of anyone who would pay money to read anything I have written.

* * *

**Beta Credit goes to SakiSaki for her exceptional patience and editing skills.**

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.

* * *

**CHAPTER 12 - Spider Man v/s The Incredible Hulk**

Spot could hear his friends laughing from inside the gym as they caught up on lost time.

It was almost an hour since Mush had fallen asleep. The sudden realization that he'd separated himself from his friends over a misunderstanding was physically and emotionally draining.

Now he was sleeping soundly as Spot gently stroked his hair.

When Mush opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Spot, who seemed to be lost in thought and staring off into space.

Mush watched for a moment studying the familiar and not so familiar lines of his face. His steely blue eyes were as sharp and clear as ever. There were, however, a few tiny lines surrounding them that started in the corners and disappeared outward. The contour of Spot's jaw was longer and a bit more angled, and his cheekbones were slightly more defined. There were two tiny scars that had been added over the years. One was on his chin, and the other was on his left cheek. Knowing Spot as he did, Mush speculated that the scars had been earned in a fight or two. His mouth, however, was exactly the same. The ends still turned up the slightest bit, making him look like he was smirking even when he was very serious. The biggest change seemed to be the hair on Spot's face. The soft boyish whiskers that had shown only once or twice a week, were now replaced by darker and more coarse hair. The shadow on his chin and upper lip was evidence that he now had to shave every day. All in all it was a handsome face. It was the same face, but now stronger and more mature.

Spot was pulled back to reality when Mush reached up to feel the bristling whiskers.

"How ya feelin', Mushie?" he asked.

"I feel good, Spot. I don't remember how long it's been since I felt this good, but it's been years I can tell you that."

Spot put his arm around Mush and drew him to his shoulder.

"What were you thinking about just now?" Mush asked as he snuggled against Spot's chest.

"Nothing," he replied with a guilty smile.

"Come on, Conlon. Spill it!"

"The park," Spot answered plainly. "I was thinking about the park."

"Were you thinking about the time I kicked your ass, or the time we snuck into the park after dark?"

"First of all, you never kicked my ass!" Spot grinned. "Second . . . Well, what do you suppose that I was thinking about?"

* * *

Mush ran into the park and jumped onto a swing. "Hey, Spot. Do ya remember the first time we came to this place? It was right after ya moved here, remember?" 

"I sure do, Mushie-boy." Spot said as he leaned on the metal frame of the swings. "We had a fight over who was the greatest super hero, Spider Man or The Incredible Hunk."

"Yeah," Mush laughed. "You said that Spider man was better 'cause he could shoot those webs out of his wrists and swing from building to building."

"Well, the only reason you said that The Hulk was better was 'cause you liked his muscles," Spot chuckled. "I remember ya saying that ya wanted ta look like him when ya grew up."

"And now I do!" Mush bellowed as he pulled off his shirt and flexed his muscles in the classic Hulk stance.

Spot looked at Mush's toned body and quickly averted his eyes. He instinctively reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask. He unscrewed the cap and swallowed a generous portion.

"Whatcha got there, Spot?"

"Whiskey," he replied, wiping the remainder from his lips with the back of his hand.

"Whiskey? I never tried whiskey before. Give me some, Okay?"

"You know you ain't used to drinkin'," Spot warned. "And besides, you won't like the taste."

"Oh, come on," Mush said as he wrestled for the flask. "Hand it over, Conlon!"

The feel of Mush's bare chest and arms rubbing against him made Spot feel very uncomfortable. He wasn't sure if the warm surge flashing through his body was due to the large swallow of whiskey, or the finely developed body pressed against him.

"Okay, okay," Spot hissed as he pushed Mush away. "You can have some, just back off'a me! And put your shirt on before you catch cold or somethin'."

"What's the matter, Spider Man? Are you afraid of the Hulk?" Mush grinned as he flexed his muscles.

Spot was grateful it was too dark for Mush to see that he was blushing. "Just put the damn shirt on, Super Hero. I don't wanna hear ya complainin' that you're sick tomorrow."

Mush pulled his shirt back over his head, then grabbed the flask. He took a large swallow and began to choke. The whiskey burned as it went down causing him to gasp for air.

"What's the matter, Hulk? Too strong for ya?" Spot laughed as he slapped Mush on the back.

"No. I just didn't expect it to taste _that_ bad."

Spot took another drink then slipped the bottle back into his pocket.

"I really kicked your ass that first day we were here," Mush chuckled.

"Whadda you talkin' about, moron? You never kicked my ass!"

"I sure as hell kicked it that day! I had you pinned to the ground and you were beggin' me to get off of you!"

"I was beggin' ya to get off'a me because ya kept stickin' your armpits in my face, and the smell was makin' me sick!"

"So how long have we been friends now, Spot? What were we, ten or something when we met?"

"Somethin' like that," Spot replied.

Mush ran over and started swinging from the monkey bars. "I kept trying to make friends with you but you kept telling me to go away."

"That's' cause you were a pain in the ass," Spot smiled.

"I could tell that you wanted to be friends," Mush said as he flipped off of the bars and onto his feet. "Now how about sharing some more of that whiskey?"

"Okay, Mush. But be careful. This stuff is a little strong for you."

"Too strong for the Hulk? Never!" Mush declared as he took another swig.

Spot pulled the bottle away from his friend's mouth. "That's enough, Hulk. You're gonna make y'self sick."

"That stuff goes down a lot easier the second time," Mush giggled. "It doesn't taste half as bad now."

Spot rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Yeah. I knew that you wanted to be friends when you moved here," Mush continued. "But you were too much of a jerk to admit it."

"You were a pain in the ass and you know it, Mushie. You were waitin' outside da house for me every mornin' before school. You pushed in line next ta me in the cafeteria every lunch period, and you were waitin' for me every day after school so you could walk me home. Every time I went ta take a piss I had to look over my shoulder 'cause I was afraid you was watchin' me!"

"Well, it worked, didn't it? You finally admitted that you wanted to be friends, didn't you?"

"I had to," Spot grinned. "You were following me around like a lost puppy. I felt sorry for ya!"

"Bite me," Mush grumbled as he climbed back onto the monkey bars.

"You wish!" Spot laughed.

Mush was now swinging upside down by his knees. His shirt was hanging freely around his shoulders leaving his entire mid section exposed. Spot could see the line of hair that ran from Mush's navel and disappeared into his pants.

Again, Spot averted his eyes. "I wouldn't do that if I was you, Mushie. Swingin' upside down and drinkin' whiskey don't mix. You're gonna make y'self sick."

"Never!" Mush shouted as he swung his body back and forth. "The Hulk never gets sick!"

Spot could feel his face getting red, so he turned away and lit a cigarette.

Mush flipped off the bar and landed in front of him.

"Admit it!" Mush shouted as he shook Spot by the shoulders.

"Admit what?" Spot stammered, trying to pull away. He was sure that Mush knew he'd been checking him out.

"Admit it! The Hulk kicks Spider Man's ass!"

Spot breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that his friend hadn't noticed the attraction.

"Come on, Spottie," Mush said as he poked at the smaller boy. "Admit it! The Hulk rules!"

"Get da fuck of'a me you jack-ass," Spot demanded. "I ain't in da mood for your shit right now!"

"What's the matter?" Mush giggled as he continued to shove and poke at Spot. "Are you afraid of the Hulk? Hah, Spottie? Are you afraid, little girl?"

"I'm warnin' ya, Mush! I ain't in da mood for dis. Get da hell away from me or I'll--"

"Or what? Or you'll cry?"

Spot lunged forward and threw his shoulder into Mush knocking him to the ground.

The two were now wrestling in the dirt. Spot's temper grew as Mush continued to laugh.

"What's the matter, Spottie? Ya can't take it?"

Spot was soon overpowered by his friend's size and strength. Once again he was pinned to the ground with his arms pressed firmly in the dirt. Mush was sitting on top of him and laughing.

"What's the matter ya girl? Can't you take a little teasing?"

Spot was in an absolute rage. He was kicking and struggling wildly to get free. "Get off'a me you fucker of so help me I'll . . . I'll . . ."

Suddenly Spot stopped fighting and Mush stopped laughing. Neither moved nor made a sound.

They both realized it at the same time.

Mush had an erection.

He was mortified. Mush jumped up and turned away. "I've gotta go" he mumbled as he started to run.

Spot got to his feet and ran after him. "Come on, Mushie, don't go. You don't gotta be embarrassed in front'a me."

Mush kept on running.

"Come on, Mush. Stuff like that happens. It don't mean nothin'," Spot said as he caught up with his friend.

When Spot put a hand on his shoulder, Mush spun around and punched him in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Mush ran a few more feet and then stopped. He turned around to see his friend lying dazed on the ground.

"Shit! Are you all right, Spot? I didn't mean to hit ya like that. I'm really sorry"

Spot moved his jaw from side to side making sure that it still worked properly. There was a slight taste of blood coming from his bottom lip. He got to his knees and spat the mix of fresh blood, saliva, and dirt from his mouth and wiped his lip along his shirt sleeve.

"I'm okay," Spot said as he struggled to his feet. "What about you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I just . . . I mean I was . . ."

"It's okay Mushie. Stuff like that happens ta guys all da time. It happened ta me in health studies last year. Miss Glass called me up ta her desk ta show me what I did wrong on some test we had. Before I knew it, I was standing at attention. You wanna talk about embarrassing? I know she saw it too. I saw her lookin' at it!"

"Well, it's one thing to have it happen to you with Glass the Ass," he said timidly. "But this was different."

"It's da same thing, Mushie. It happens when it happens." Then gesturing toward his own crotch he laughed, "These things have a mind all their own sometimes."

"But I ain't like Race, and Cowboy, and the others."

"I know ya ain't, Mushie," Spot said as he handed Mush the flask. "Sit down and quit worryin' about it."

Mush took the whiskey and swallowed a Hulk-sized swig. The liquid felt warm as it moved down his throat. He shuddered slightly then passed the bottle back.

"Really, Spot. I ain't like the other guys. I like girls."

"So do I," Spot grinned. "Girls have a lot of nice things about them. For one, they don't try to stick their armpits in your face all the time."

"Hey! I haven't done that since we were kids."

"Good thing, 'cause I've smelled ya after gym class and ya stink even more now!"

Mush looked down at the ground and became quite again.

"Look, Mushie. There's no reason ta be embarrassed. We ain't got no secrets from each other. We could always tell each other anything, right?"

"I guess so."

"Whadda ya mean ya guess so? Ya told me about da first time ya went all da way, didn't ya? Ya said that ya did it when you were stayin' at your grandma's house. I still remember your exact words too. 'My grandma was out at a church meeting, and this girl from down the street came over and made a man out of me . . . Twice!"

Mush managed a slight grin and a quick look at his friend. "Yup. She sure did," he chuckled.

"And I told you twice as much as you told me," Spot laughed. "'Cause I told you about my first time with a girl, and my first time with a guy."

"Yeah. But you wouldn't tell me everything."

"The only thing that I didn't tell ya was who I was with," Spot said defiantly. "That's because it was nobody's business but mine and theirs. Besides, if I did tell ya who I was with then I would be tellin' ya their secrets and not mine. And I don't go around talkin' about other people's business. It just ain't right. It's like I always say, Spot Conlon don't kiss and tell!"

"You really mean that don't you, Spot?"

"A'corse I do. You should know that by now. I tell ya all my secret stuff and I ain't never told ya anyone's name, have I?"

Mush didn't answer. He just shook his head and stared at the ground.

"Mushie. Ya don't have to be afraid that I'm gonna tell anyone what happened cause I won't. It ain't anybody's business. And besides, it didn't mean anything anyway."

"But what if it did mean something, Spot?"

"Don't talk crazy!" Spot said as he went to stand up.

Mush took hold of the other boy's hand and pulled him back down. "Really, Spot. What if it did mean something?"

Spot was painfully aware that Mush hadn't let go of his hand.

"Don't tease me, Mushie," Spot hissed. "Ya know I can't stand being teased!"

"I'm not teasing you, Spot. I just don't think that what happened tonight was an accident."

"That's crazy, Mushie. This ain't you talkin it's the whiskey. Tomorrow when ya head is clear you'll forget all about what happened."

"But suppose I don't want to forget it?"

Spot stared into Mush's eyes. "Please, Mushie. Don't do this. You don't know what your sayin'."

"I'm not stupid!" Mush spat. "I'm not drunk and I do know what I'm saying!"

Before Spot could say another word, Mush leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss was soft, and sweet and gentle. Spot gasped in a breath as Mush's soft lips touched the cut on his mouth.

This can't be happening, he thought. This can't be Mushie kissin' me. This ain't sweet innocent Mushie Meyers.

When Mush opened his eyes, he was surprised by Spot's expression. He actually looked afraid. He had never known Spot to be afraid of anything.

For a moment Spot thought that he was dreaming. He was sure that he was going to wake up any minute. He reached over and placed one hand on Mush's cheek half expecting to feel nothing. But it wasn't a dream. He could feel the soft hair on the other boys face as he moved his fingers along the jaw. Spot's chest tightened when Mush closed his eyes and leaned into Spot's hand.

Mush's breathing became rapid as he brushed his lips across the palm of Spot's hand. The skin was rough and chapped and smelled like cigarette smoke. The sensation sent a flood of warmth through his body that settled in his groin.

Again Mush leaned forward, but Spot pulled away.

"Mushie, please don't do this. It ain't funny."

"This isn't a joke!" Mush said boldly as he leaned in for another kiss. The taste of tobacco, whiskey, and blood thrilled him as his tongue passed through Spot's parted lips. He heard Spot whimper as they kissed with more fervor and conviction.

Spot's blood was racing as he pulled Mush against his body. Now it was Mush that was making a sound. But this was not a whimper; It was a deep guttural moan that took them both by surprise.

"Are ya sure that ya know what you're doin', Mushie?"

"No, Spot," Mush replied. "I don't know what I'm doing. But I want you to teach me. I want you to show me what to do."

Spot reached under Mush's shirt and ran his hands over the strong muscles that lay beneath, then pulled the shirt over Mush's head. This time Spot didn't look away. This time his eyes drank in every inch. Spot's hands and mouth traced each line and every muscle that shown through Mush's taught skin.

The feel and taste of Mush were exquisite and more exciting than Spot ever imagined. When he'd find an area that was particularly sensitive he would linger just a bit longer to intensify the sensation.

Mush's mind raced as Spot explored him. He writhed as strong hands moved softly over his skin while moist lips and scraping teeth followed behind.

Spot breathed in the scent of soap and sweat and JucyFruit as he traveled the length of this flawless body.

Finally he made his way to line of soft hair that just minutes before made him blush..

It wasn't long before Mush uttered some indistinguishable words, then heard himself groan his friends name.

Spot held him tight until the involuntary shudders of aftershock subsided and his breathing returned to normal

Then it was Mush's turn. His desire to explore Spot far outweighed any apprehension he was feeling. He soon discovered a neck that was exceptionally sensitive. When he ran his mouth down its length Spot shuddered and threw back his head. Mush stopped at the base and gently pressed his teeth into the tight muscle.

Spot arched his back as a deep moan escaped his throat. He ran one hand through Mush's tight coarse curls and pulled him closer with the other.

When Mush continued, he fought to suppress a giggle when he realized that Spot was ticklish. Then any urge to laugh was erased when he saw the many scars on Spot's body. He knew that Spot never took off his shirt. Even when they went swimming he remained covered. Mush didn't have to ask how he got the scars. He knew they were gifts from Spot's father.

Spot cringed when he felt smooth fingers examining his old wounds. He had only allowed Tony and Mr. Higgins to see his injuries. Even Jack had never seen him without his shirt. Spot covered himself and attempted to move away but Mush stopped him. He gently kissed Spot on the corner of the mouth then pushed the shirt aside and continued on his journey. Mush examined and caressed and kissed each imperfection, gaining Spot's trust with every movement.

Mush was unsure and a bit clumsy but did his best to mimic what Spot had done to him. Then with some gentle guidance it wasn't long before Spot was the one calling the other's name.

The two remained huddled together for the longest time.

Finally Spot broke the silence. "Now what, Mushie?" he asked. "What do we do now? Do we go back to being buddies? Do we pretend that this never happened?"

"Are you sorry we did this?" Mush asked sheepishly. "Didn't you like it?"

"Of course I liked it, you moron. I loved it! But that ain't the point. We've got us a real situation here, Mushie. What we just did ain't da kinda thing that friends usually do with each other."

Mush didn't answer. He wouldn't even look at Spot. He just stared at his sneakers as he tied the laces.

"Okay, Mush. If you want, we can make-believe that this never happened and I won't ever bring it up again."

"But if you like it," Mush stammered. "I mean . . . I could do it. If was something you wanted. I mean --"

"Quit the double talk, Mushie. This is your decision. Do ya want me to be your pal or do ya want me to be more?"

"You are more than a pal, Spot. You're a lot more. I mean the word boyfriend sounds kinda stupid, but that's what you feel like. But it's kinda creepy . . . I don't mean that what we did was creepy but . . . Well, the word boyfriend is creepy. It's kinda, girly . . . Damn it, Conlon. You know what I mean!"

Spot had to smile as he watched Mush struggling for the right words.

"The guys ain't gonna find out about this are they?"

"Not if you don't want them to," Spot grinned. "You know what I always say –"

"Yeah. Spot Conlon don't kiss and tell."

Spot nodded in agreement as he tousled Mush's hair.

"Spot? Does this mean that you're my boyfriend now?"

"Only if you want me to be," Spot smiled.

"Yeah, I guess I do," Mush said sheepishly. "So then it's okay with you that we don't tell anyone. And maybe we could, ya know, do this again sometime?"

"Sometime?" Spot laughed. "Mushie-boy you do have a lot to learn. We ain't waitin' for sometime to come along. We're going to do this again right now!"

* * *

"Please, Mush. Tell me I didn't use a line as cheesy as that on ya." 

"You sure did, Spot. You said those exact words. And that cheesy line worked too. That first time with you was the greatest thing I'd ever experienced, but the second time was even better!"

Suddenly both Spot and Mush realized how bizarre their conversation had become. They hadn't spoken for more than a third of their lives, yet they were holding hands and talking as though they were together only yesterday.

"I'm sorry, Spot. I'm sorry for what I did to you . . . For what I did to us."

Mush looked so sad and lost that Spot instinctively reached up and put his hand against Mush's cheek. The soft facial hair that was once so familiar was gone. Mush's face felt foreign and rough to his touch.

Mush leaned against Spot's hand and closed his eyes just as he had done so many times before.

Spot's chest tightened in a combination of desire and pain for the loss of what they once had. A sadness spread over him when he realized that he finally had Mush back. But this wasn't his Mush. This was a grown man with a child and a past and who just hours before hated the very air he breathed.

Mush looked at Spot and saw the anguish in his face. He leaned forward and kissed Spot as though it were the most natural thing in the world. A painful moan escaped Spot's lips as he returned the kiss. This was something he missed. This was something he'd dreamed about. This was something that felt more beautiful and hurt more deeply then he thought possible.

When Mush opened his eyes, he was stunned. Spot's steel grey eyes looked tired and red. The strength he had always seen in them was gone.

"I can't do this," Spot said as he pulled himself away. "I can't let myself be hurt again. I can't fall in love with you and find out that this is just some left over feeling ya have that's gonna go away. I survived it the first time, Mushie, but I just can't do this again."

"Spottie, I can't give you any guarantees. I know that I have to talk to someone like Dutchy to help me sort all of this out, but for the first time in years I am really happy. You and Katie are the most important things in my life. It's obvious that we can't go back to when we were kids, but maybe if you are willing to go through this with me we can have a part of that and something new together. I understand that you have no reason to want to take all of this on. But . . . But I still love you, and I think that you still love me. So maybe if there's a chance--"

"Hey Guys," Dutchy said as he stuck his head out of the doorway. "You mind if I stick in my two cents? I was kind of listening in on your conversation."

"I figured that you would be," Spot smiled. "I've worked with you enough to know how you operate."

"I make it a policy not to give professional advice to friends," he said as he sat down with them. "That's something that should be handled by an impartial therapist. But I think that I'd like to make an exception just this once."

"Do your stuff, Doc." Spot said as he winked at Dutchy. "Just don't try ta hand me a bill when ya finish."

"Look, Mush. You're right about having to talk to someone," Dutchy explained. "The last fifteen years aren't going away just because you want them to. You may not feel it now, but the anger you had toward Spot and the rest of us has left its scars. These scars need to be treated before you can go making plans for the rest of your life . . . And that goes for you too, Spot. You have kept your feelings bottled-up for a long time. Now that they have started to come out you can't put the cork back into the bottle. You need to speak with someone as well."

"Do you think that I'm crazy, Dutchy?" Mush asked timidly. "How can I want to be with Spot after having hated him all this time? And if I really cared for him back then, how could I believe that he could have done that to me?"

"No, I don't think that you are crazy," Dutchy assured him. "You suffered an intense trauma that caused your judgment to become clouded. I also don't think that you hated Spot. You may have hated what you _thought_ he had done, but you didn't hate him. You weren't looking for revenge. You were trying to get his attention and to show him how he made you feel. I think that you loved each other back then and that you still love each other. If you didn't then you wouldn't be out here playing kissy-face."

"Kissy-face, Doc?" Spot asked sarcastically. "What is that, some kind of medical term you shrinks are using these days?"

"As a matter of fact it is!" Dutchy laughed as he slapped Spot in the side of the head. "Now, what I suggest is that you begin couples therapy as soon as possible. The longer you wait the more confused you'll both become."

"Couples?" Spot asked. "I haven't been with Mush since I was eighteen years old. I don't think that we qualify as a couple!"

"When you get your medical degree you can question my judgment," Dutchy warned. "Until then, let me do my job. I have a friend who is an expert in these cases. If you want, I'll call him first thing Monday morning and we can set up an appointment."

"Spot, I don't want you to agree to this because of me," Mush assured him. "Either way I'm going to let Dutchy connect me with someone I can talk to. Don't think that you have to carry me because you don't. I am going to be fine."

"Shut-up, moron" Spot laughed. "Make your call, Dutch. I wanna do this."

"It's as good as done," Dutchy said as he got to his feet.

"Thanks, Dutch," Spot whispered as they shook hands.

"Don't thank me," Dutchy replied. "This is what I do. I'm a super hero myself, you know. I'm Super Shrink! Champion of the oppressed and helper to those less fortunate and less adorable than myself!"

"Adorable?" Spot questioned. "You? . . . Adorable? . . . Hardly!"

"Bite me!" Dutchy laughed.

"Please!" Spot chuckled. "Not in front of the Misses!"

"Hey. Who are you calling Misses! I'm not--"

Mush's words were silenced by Spot's lips.

"Now tell me about this kid of yours," Spot grinned. "I think that she and I'd better get to know each other."

Mush pulled out his wallet and handed Spot a picture. "This is Kaitlin. I call her Katie for short."

The likeness was amazing. She was the spitting image of Mush. The only difference between the two was that the little girl had honey brown hair that fell in soft ringlets.

"Damn, Mushie. She looks just like you."

"It's a good thing she does," Mush said. "Her mother did a lot of catting around and I was pretty worried until I got my first look at her."

"Well you don't have to worry about that," Spot assured him. "There's no way this kid came from anybody but you!"

"I know," Mush grinned. "But the blood test they made me take when I applied for custody sealed the deal."

Mush ran his finger over his daughter's picture. Spot couldn't keep from smiling when he saw the pride on Mush's face.

"You and Katie have a lot in common," Mush giggled. "She's only three and a half and already she's got a fresh mouth."

I think I'm gonna like this kid," Spot grinned. "Now, whadda you say we go back inside and face the music?"

"Do you think that we should say anything about us getting together again?" Mush asked.

"Again? They don't know that we were ever together."

"You mean that after all this time you didn't tell anyone?"

"Why would I? You said that you didn't want anybody to know so I didn't tell them. You know what I always say?"

"Yeah," Mush said as he stole another kiss. "Spot Conlon don't kiss and tell. But I don't want to keep any more secrets if it's okay with you?"

Spot leaned Mush against the wall for a deeper kiss. Then they went back into the gym.

"Dear, me. What have we here?" Tony asked when he saw the two holding hands. "Has something new developed when we weren't looking?"

"Not something new," Spot replied. "This is old news."

"Well, this is quite a surprise!" Tony smirked. "But then you always were good at keeping secrets, weren't you, Spot?"

"Hey guys," Chris called. "Take a look at what Itey's got here. It's that picture that Mr. Denton took of us the day of the rally."

Everyone gathered around Itey to see the picture.

"I've always hated that picture," Tony grumbled.

"Why is that?" David asked.

"Take a look at Chris and Spot over on the end. Doesn't it look a little strange to you? It looks like they are doing something that the two of them better not have been doing!"

"You know that you've always been the only one for me," Chris smiled as he gave Tony a kiss.

"I remember this," Jack said. "It was in the paper the day of my party."

"That was some party," Tony said sarcastically.

Chris put his arms around Tony and gave him a supportive hug.

"Yeah, that's a party none of us will ever forget," Spot grumbled.

**END Chapter 12**


	13. Friends and Family

I do not own Newsies, or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

I am making no money from this story. I seriously doubt the sanity of anyone who would pay money to read anything I have written.

* * *

Beta Credit goes to SakiSaki who, despite her heavy school schedule, was able to give me her assistance and advice.

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.

* * *

**CHAPTER 13- Friends and Family**

"Mornin', Mr. and Mrs. H.," Spot called through the front door.

"Mornin', Spottie," Mr. Higgins called back. "You're just in time for breakfast."

Tony, Chris, Reggie, and Mr. Higgins were sitting at the table while Mrs. Higgins was at the stove cooking for an army.

"Good morning, Spot," Mrs. Higgins said reaching for another plate. "Sit down and have some French toast."

"No thanks, Mrs. H. I ain't hungry."

"Don't argue with me, Spot. Sit down and eat. You are much too thin. Look at Chris over there. He's had four pieces already."

"And he's gonna have a fat ass before he turns thirty," Spot replied looking at Chris and glancing at the area in question.

"You keep your eyes off his ass," Tony grumbled.

"That's enough talk about arses at the table," Mr. Higgins warned. "I'll be washin' both of your mouths out with soap if you're not careful."

"Sorry Mr. H.," Spot said with a smirk. "And don't worry, Race. He ain't my type."

"Everybody's _your_ type," Chris scoffed as he gulped his second glass of milk.

"Oh yeah? Well, even I have limits." Spot laughed as he punched Chris in the shoulder. "And besides, who could eat with the two'a you givin' each other cow eyes at the table."

"I know just what you mean," Reggie huffed. "It was all I could do to gag down my breakfast today."

"Now, now. Don't be bitter," Tony mocked as he patted his sister on the head. "You'll understand how we feel when you meet somebody special, Sis."

"Well, that's never gonna happen with you around," Reggie spat. "You've got Itey so rattled that he kept looking over his shoulder on our date last night. He kept expecting you to jump out and holler, 'Get your hands off of my sister!' Just like you always do. And after what you pulled at the drive-in movie last week, I don't think that he'll ever try to put his arm around me again!"

"Then my work here is done," Tony laughed.

"Here, Mr. H. I almost forgot that I brought in your newspaper," Spot said. "Take a look at the front page."

Mr. Higgins unfolded the paper and let out a gasp. "Good heavens!" he exclaimed. "Darlin', come over here and take a look at this. It's a picture of your children and all of their friends. And get a load of this headline. 'Children's Crusade, Students Rock the Vote!' But you children didn't tell us you were going to be in the newspaper."

"We didn't know," Tony replied.

"Our teacher, Mr. Denton, took that picture outside of the school on the night of the rally," Chris said. "His brother came to the school on Election Day to cover the story. He's the editor of this paper and a really nice guy. I was talking to him for a while. He said that this was a really important story."

"Read us the article, Papa," Reggie said excitedly.

_In an amazing upset, Pulitzer Academy basketball star, Jack Kelly, (pictured here with his close friends and supporters) was elected president of the student council by defeating his opponent in a two to one victory. Kelly's bid for office was dubbed the "Come Out and Vote Campaign" because Kelly and several of his supporters have "Came out of the Closet" and admitted to being homosexual. Kelly was quoted as saying, "There's a lot or us, and we ain't goin' away. We'll fight until damn doomsday if it means we'll get a fair shake."_

_Christopher Hunter, (pictured here front row far right) was quoted as saying, "This school and our community have officially come out of the dark ages. We're very proud of Jack and of the students who supported us. Sometimes all it takes is one voice. Then it becomes a hundred. Then a thousand. We hope that other schools will follow our lead." _

"Well, well, Gabby. That's a nice little speech ya made there," Mr. Higgins grinned. "You're going to make a fine lawyer someday."

Tony took the newspaper to examine it more carefully. "What the hell!" he shouted.

"What's wrong?" Chris asked.

"What's wrong? You and Spot! That's what's wrong. What the hell are you two doing in this picture anyway? It looks like you just got caught groping each other!"

"Well, why the hell would I want to grope Spot?" Chris asked. "That's just gross!"

"Excuse me?" Spot huffed. "You're not exactly my idea of a dream date either! If I had to look at you and those teeth grinning at me all the time I'd go nuts. Nobody should smile that much. It ain't natural."

"That's enough," Mrs. Higgins warned. "And Anthony, you should be ashamed of yourself for even suggesting such a thing."

"But, Mama. Look at the picture."

"I said that's enough, Anthony."

"Gee, Race. You're so cute when you're jealous," Spot chuckled.

"Bite me!" Tony replied.

"No thanks. That's Blink's job, not mine."

Chris and Tony looked at each other and started to snicker. Then Tony whispered something into Chris's ear, and Chris turned bright red.

"That's enough, you two," Mr. Higgins warned. "I'll have none of that at the breakfast table."

"Okay," Tony smirked. "We'd better get going if we're gonna help set up for the party. Jack says that this is gonna be the biggest, loudest, noisiest blowout this town has ever seen. Are you coming with us, Spot?"

"Nah. I want to have a talk with your pop."

"There will be no talking until you eat at least one piece of toast, and drink a glass of milk," Mrs. Higgins ordered.

"Yes ma'am," Spot grumbled.

Tony and Chris had to fight back their laughter as they went out the door. Spot Conlon was one of the toughest kids they knew. The sight of him being ordered around by Tony's five foot tall mother was priceless.

Both Spot and Mr. Higgins had become quite fond of the time they spent together during their talks.

Spot was an angry child when he first came to live with Jack and his mother. He hated the world and himself. From the start, Mr. Higgins could see that there was more to Spot than a smart mouth and a king-sized attitude. It wasn't long before Mr. Higgins' patience and humor broke through the wall that Spot had built to protect himself. Eventually, Spot told Mr. Higgins about his mother, about her death, and about the many horrors both he and his mother had endured at the hands of his father.

The hardest thing for Spot was admitting that he was bisexual. His father had made him feel ashamed and subhuman.

In time, Mr. Higgins convinced Spot that being bisexual didn't make him evil or less of a person. Through their talks, Spot learned to be proud of who and what he was.

Spot idolized Mr. Higgins. He was the first positive male role model in Spot's life.

"So what's on your mind, Spottie-boy?"

"Well, I kinda wanted to run somethin' by ya, Mr. H. But it's kinda personal, ya know? 'Cause there's this guy. And we've been kinda seein' each other, ya know? He's kinda special. . . . Ya know what I mean, Mr. H.?"

"Good heavens, boy," Mr. Higgins laughed. "Spit it out! We've been having these talks since you were ten years old. You should know by now that there isn't anything you can't say ta me."

"Yeah. Okay, Mr. H. Well, I've been seein' this guy, and he's special. I mean _really_ special. He's not like anybody I've seen before."

"Spot, are you by any chance talking about Mush Meyers?"

"Yeah. How'd ya know?"

"Well, I've noticed that you two spend an awful lot of time together. I've also noticed that you go outside for a cigarette a lot more often when he's around. Mush always seems to go with you even though he doesn't smoke. Then you come back about a half'n hour later and you are both giggling and smiling from ear to ear. So either the two of you have been smoking something that's illegal, or there's a little Hanky-panky goin' on between ya."

"Damn," Spot mumbled as his face turned red. "I didn't think that anybody noticed."

"Well, Spot. It's not only that. The fact is that you get that same cow-eyed look that Tony and Gabby have whenever you and Mush are around each other."

"Oh God! Please don't tell me that I'm _that_ disgusting! I'll have ta go up onto the roof and throw myself off."

"Well, it's not disgusting. It's nice. Everybody should have someone special in their lives. So tell me - do you love him, Spottie-boy?"

"Yeah. I do, Mr. H."

"Well, do ya love him for the Hanky-panky, or do ya love him for the person he is?"

"I love him for the person, Mr. H. I loved him before any of the Hanky-panky took place. I think I kinda loved him before I even thought about the Hanky-panky. I told him that I love him, and he said that he loves me too."

"Then what's the problem, boy? It sounds pretty good to me."

"Well, ya know how I don't like people knowin' my business? Well, this time I think that I wouldn't mind if people knew. I kinda want everybody to know."

"That's love all right." Mr. Higgins smiled. "It makes ya do things that ya wouldn't normally do. And ya want everyone to know how wonderful ya feel. It makes ya want to shout it out to the world."

"That's it, Mr. H! That's it exactly! Sometimes I feel like if I don't tell everybody then I'm gonna explode!"

"So then what's the problem, Spot?"

"It's Mushie. He don't wanna say anything. Till now, he's only been with girls. I'm the first guy he ever had feelin's for. I think that he's afraid of what people are gonna think about him. Like maybe the kids at school are gonna start givin' him a hard time. It sure didn't help any when Blink's mom came over here the other night and went nuts. The way that bitch was carryin' on scared the crap out'a him."

"Spottie, you've gotta understand that not everyone is as strong as you are. You went through more before you were ten than most people go through in an entire lifetime. Not everyone is as brave as you either. And don't forget that even you felt guilty about your sexuality when you first came to live here."

"That was different Mr. H. It was that bastard old man of mine who made me feel that way."

"It doesn't matter what the reason's are, Spot. The fact of the matter is that Mush isn't ready to let the world know about you and him. He is still getting used to the idea of being bisexual. If you rush him, you'll run the risk of losing him. Do you understand?"

"Yeah. I understand. But it sure doesn't make it any easier."

"Well, whatever gave ya the idea that love was supposed ta be easy!" Mr. Higgins laughed. "So if you love Mush, then you'll give him time he needs to come to terms with this. And if he loves you, then the two of you can work this out together. But you've got to give it time, Spottie."

Spot sat for a moment digesting Mister Higgins' advice.

"Thanks, Mr. H.," Spot said as he stood and held out his hand.

"You're more than welcome," Mr. Higgins replied returning Spot's handshake.

Out of nowhere, Spot pulled Mr. Higgins in for a hug and said, "I love ya like ya was my own father." Then without looking at Mr. Higgins, Spot ran up the stairs and out the front door.

Mr. Higgins was both stunned and elated by Spot's admission.

"What was that all about?" Mrs. Higgins asked as she finished doing the breakfast dishes.

Mr. Higgins slid his arms around his wife's waist and gave her a kiss on the neck. "That my Darlin' was about the thing that makes the world go 'round . . . Amore! But there was a little surprise just now. Spot told me he loves me like I was his own father."

Mrs. Higgins took her husband's face into her soap-covered hand and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You're a good man, Michael Higgins. Who could keep from loving you?"

"Ya know Darlin'," Mr. Higgins whispered into his wife's ear. "All of the children are out of the house, and I don't have to be at work until four this afternoon."

"So?" Mrs. Higgins said coyly.

"So . . . Why don't you and I go upstairs, and I'll show ya just how good a man I really can be?"

"Michael Higgins! You're shameful!" she giggled.

"That I am, Darlin'," he laughed. "And you love every bit of it!"

-o-o-o-o-

Jack's party was in full swing by mid afternoon.

Reggie had already punched her brother twice for getting between Itey and herself. After the second time she grabbed him by the hair and warned, "If you don't knock it off, I'm going to tell Mama what I caught you and Blink doing on her good couch the other night!"

"Fair play to you, Reggie!" Irish shouted. "I was wonderin' how long you were going to put up with his shite!"

Spot was the life of the party as he told everyone what he'd seen at the night of the rally. He was having a good time, but he was worried about Mush. Spot hadn't seen him since the rally. They had spoken on the telephone earlier in the day, but Mush didn't sound like himself. Spot kept looking around waiting for him to arrive.

When he finally saw Mush, Spot's face lit up. "Where ya been, Mushie-boy? I've been waitin' for ya all day."

"I'll bet," Mush said caustically. "I heard you telling that story about what happened at the rally the other night. So, did you enjoy the show? I'm glad that you thought it was so funny!"

"Whadda you so pissed about, Mushie?"

Before Mush could answer, Skittery came barreling into the driveway honking the horn of his beat up old convertible.

When he saw his brother, Skittery shouted for Itey to come over.

"Where's Race?" Skittery asked breathlessly.

"He's inside somewhere with Blink and Dutchy. Why?"

"Go get him, Itey. Now!"

"What's the problem?" Itey asked.

"I don't have time to explain. Mama sent me to get Race, Reggie, and Spot and bring them to the hospital. It's Mr. Higgins. Now come on, Itey. Go!"

Itey flew across the lawn and into the house.

Skittery saw Spot and Mush standing by the side of the house. He started hitting the horn and yelling frantically for Spot to come over.

Itey and the others emerged from the house and ran to the car. Spot was close behind.

"What the fuck is going on?" Tony asked.

"Just get in the car and I'll explain on the way."

"You'll explain now!" Tony demanded.

"It's your pop. They think it's his heart. Your mom wants you, Reggie, and Spot to come to the hospital right away."

"I want Blink to come with us," Tony said.

"Fine! Just everyone get in the fucking car already!"

Tony, Chris, and Spot all jumped into the back seat.

Itey slid into the front seat so that Reggie could sit on his lap.

Nobody noticed that it was the first time Tony didn't tell Itey to get his hands off Reggie.

"So what happened, Skittery?"

"I don't know, Race. My mom just told me to find you guys and get you to the hospital right away. All I know is that they think he's had a heart attack. I don't know anything else."

When they arrived at the hospital, Mrs. Higgins and Itey's mother were waiting inside.

"Everything is all right," Mrs. Higgins said reassuringly. "Your Papa has had a heart attack, but he's doing okay. You can go in to see him in a few minutes."

"What happened, Mama?" Tony asked trying to remain calm.

"Itey's father was helping your papa to change a flat tire when Papa felt a pain in his chest and fell over. Mr. Callo told me to call for an ambulance while he gave Papa CPR. Itey's father saved Papa's life."

Reggie threw her arms around Itey, buried her face in his neck and started to cry.

The nurse came out and told Mrs. Higgins that she and the children could go in and see her husband, but only for a few minutes.

Tony and Reggie went inside, and Mrs. Higgins called for Spot and Chris to come along. "He will want to see the two of you as well," she said.

Reggie put her arms around her father and started to cry.

"It's okay, Darlin'," Mr. Higgins said as he kissed Reggie on the head. "I'm feeling much better. Please don't cry."

"I love you, Papa," Reggie whimpered.

"I love you too, Carina. I love you very much. I am the luckiest father in the world to have you as my little girl. Don't you remember the song I used to sing to you when you were little, Carina?"

"Yes, Papa. I remember. You used to sing _You are my Sunshine._"

"That's right," he said as he began to tickle Reggie. "You were my sunshine then, and you are still my sunshine, Darlin'."

Reggie's high pitched giggle could be heard outside of the room where Itey was waiting. He breathed a sigh of relief at hearing his girlfriend's laughter.

"Now, I need you to do me a favor," Mr. Higgins told Reggie. "I want you to go over and sit with your mama while I talk to the boys. Mama is a little upset right now, and I'm sure that having you with her would be a comfort. Will you do that for me, Darlin'?"

Reluctantly, Reggie did as he requested.

"I want to talk to you for a minute, Gabby," he said to Chris.

Chris went over to the bed and Mr. Higgins took him by the hand. "I want you to know that I am very happy that you and Tony are together. You are a good boy, and you are good for my son. He is happier than he has ever been."

"Thanks, Mr. Higgins," Chris grinned. "Tony can be a stubborn son of a B., but somebody's gotta love him, so I figured it might as well be me."

Mr. Higgins patted Chris on the hand and winked. "Christopher, do me a favor and take Reggie outside to Itey. This will be a good chance for them to get in a kiss or two without that boyfriend of yours interfering."

"Sure thing, Mr. H.," Chris said as he squeezed Tony's father's hand. Then he took Reggie outside to Itey.

Tony went over and took his father's hand. Mr. Higgins held out his other hand to Spot.

"Spot. I want you to think back to our first talk. You weren't feeling very good about yourself back then, but I told you that you were special and I could prove it. Do you remember?"

"Sure I do, Mr. H. You said that the name Sean means Gift from God, and anyone with a name that special was destined to do great things in this life . . . But there's no reason to be talkin' about this stuff now, Mr. H. They said that you're gonna be just fine."

"I know, Spottie. But I had a little scare, and it made me think about the things that I've put off saying. I just want you to remember that you are a special person and a good person. And I want you to know that I couldn't love you more if you were my very own son."

Spot's breath caught in his chest. He wanted to speak but he couldn't. All he could do was to squeeze Mr. Higgins' hand. Mr. Higgins smiled and nodded to let Spot know that he understood.

Then Mr. Higgins looked at his son. Tony's eyes were welling up and he was trying desperately to look calm for his father's sake.

"Tony, you are the absolute proof that the best thing that your mama and I ever did was to get married and have a family. You have your mama's strength and my sense of humor. There isn't a day that goes by that I am not reminded of how very proud I am to be your papa. I love you, son. And I want you to know that it makes me happy to see you and Chris together. I have a special feeling about the two of you. I'm glad that you found each other."

"I love you too," Tony said in a weak and shaky voice. Then he took a deep breath and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "But I'm the one that's proud. I love you Papa," he whispered as he gave his father a hug.

"Now, I want both of you to promise me something," Mr. Higgins said. "I want you to promise that you will always be there for each other and that you will both take care of Reggie and Mama if anything happens to me."

"I promise, Papa," Tony said.

"Me too, Mr. H. I promise," Spot said.

"Now, take yourselves outside, so I can be alone with my sweetheart for a while."

Mrs. Higgins nudged the boys toward the door, then turned back to her husband.

"Hey, Darlin'," Mr. Higgins said to his wife. "Give us a kiss," he smiled.

Both Tony and Spot stopped at the door and watched as Mrs. Higgins kissed her husband.

"Ti ammo, Darlin'," he said. "I love you too, il mia caro" she answered.

Reggie jumped when she heard the bell ring and saw the red light go on outside her father's room.

Several nurses and the doctor rushed into the room, then one of the nurses pushed the boys out.

They all stood waiting and staring at the door. It seemed like an eternity until Mrs. Higgins came out of the room.

Tony reached for Chris' hand and held his breath waiting for his mother to speak.

"Papa's gone," was all she said.

* * *

"Mr. Higgins was a great man," Itey said 

"He sure was," David agreed. "I remember when my father got his job at the plant, and we moved here from the city. Sarah and I were the first Jewish kids enrolled at Pulitzer. My dad told me that a couple of men organized a protest for the first day of school. Pop said that they planned to scare the 'Hebe Kids' from ever wanting to come back to school again. Mr. Higgins tried talking to them, but it didn't do any good. Apparently the men had their minds set, so Mr. Higgins went about un-setting them with his fists. Nobody ever gave us trouble after that."

Spot stood up and raised his beer. "Here's to Mr. H.," he said. "The greatest man I ever met!"

Tony could feel a lump forming in his throat as he watched his friends raise their drinks in memory of his father.

Dutchy could see that Tony was beginning to choke up, so decided that it was time to change the subject. "Okay, guys. That's enough serious talk for one night," he announced. "I want to hear about what Racetrack did to Itey and Reggie that night at the drive-in movie."

"It was beautiful!" Jack laughed.

"Beautiful my ass," Itey grumbled.

"It was hysterical," Jack continued. "When Race found out that Itey was planning to take his precious little sister to the drive in he decided to teach them both a lesson. Instead of us all piling into one or two cars the way we usually did, Race had us split up into four cars. We all waited until Itey parked. Blink and Race pulled in behind them, and the rest of us parked on either side of Race. Then every time Itey tried to put his arm around Reggie, Blink would honk his horn and the rest of us would join in. Each time Itey made a move toward Reggie he'd hear the horns and jump out of his skin. Finally, Itey got out and looked around. When he recognized the cars, he immediately went after Race. Blink had to drive out of the lot to keep Itey from taking his mother's car apart while he was trying to get at Race. It was just beautiful!"

"I'm glad you're all enjoying this," Itey grumbled. "And you!" he said as he pointed at Tony. "You know damn well that I would never do anything to hurt Reggie. But you, my friend were a psychopath! Just because you and Blink went at it like a couple of deranged rabbits didn't mean that the rest of the world had no control!"

"He's right, Race," Jack smirked. "I heard that Old Man Johnson from the drugstore was able to retire on the money he made from selling condoms to you alone!"

"That's disgusting," David chuckled.

"It may be disgusting," Spot laughed. "But it sure as hell is true!"

"I guess that I made you miss out on a lot of good times," Dutchy whispered to Specs. "You were always busy watching out for me when you should have been enjoying that last year of high school."

"I was exactly where I wanted to be," Specs assured him. "My place was and always will be with you."

End Chapter 13

* * *

**A/N:** When I decided to puta few words of Italian in this chapter, I didn't know how difficult a task it would become. 

I searched several Italian to English dictionaries and spoke with numerous people who have family members who speak Italian (one person is at the head of her class in Italian and who's father was Italian born). The only thing that they could all agree on is that nobody can agree on whether carina and il mia caro should be capitalized or not.

I apologize to the entire Italian speaking world if the final choices were incorrect.

ALSO: A special thanks to Lady TNN for talking me off the ledged of the Brooklyn Bridge when this chapter became overwhelming.


	14. Made for Each Other

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

I am making no money from this story. I seriously doubt the sanity of anyone who would pay money to read anything I have written.

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.

* * *

A/N:Beta credit goes to SakiSaki, who worked exceptionally hard on this chapter. Her diligence, guidance and encouragement have made a notable difference in this chapter and in this story as a whole.

* * *

Chapter 14 - Made for Each Other

Dutchy leaned back against Specs's chest as the two lounged in the bleachers. Specs's right arm was draped around Dutchy's waist while his left hand rested easily inside his partner's shirt. A feeling of contentment surrounded him as he felt the smooth skin of Dutchy's chest. They were enjoying a quiet moment as they watched their friends interact.

David and Itey were going through Itey's vast collection of CDs. Their laughter could be heard through the slow and easy music that filled the gym.

Spot, Mush, and Jack were talking quietly at the other end of the bleachers.

Tony and Chris were standing slightly away from David and Itey. Tony had his arms around Chris from behind as they talked, smiled, and swayed to the music. They were an active part of their surroundings, yet at the same time they were in a world all their own.

"Look at Race and Blink," Dutchy remarked. "Watch their movements and expressions. I don't think that I've ever seen two people who look more in love."

"They seem like a couple of kids on their honeymoon, don't they?" Specs smiled. "You would never know that they've been together since they were seventeen. They look like they're making love, even when they aren't."

"It's more than that," Dutchy said. "I think that they are making love even when they aren't. Everything they do or say affects the other. They really don't need anyone or anything else. They could lose their jobs, their money, and whatever they own, and still be incredibly happy. Those two were destined to find each other. I've never seen two people so much in love."

"Well, what about us? Don't you think that we're at least that much in love?" Specs asked. "Or maybe you think that we're one of those comfortable couples who look more like members of the same family rather than lovers?"

"We are totally different," Dutchy smiled as he leaned back for a kiss. Specs turned away in a huff, and Dutchy's mouth met with more cheek than lips.

"Don't go getting all bent out of shape, Specs. You're not listening to what I'm saying."

"Go ahead," Specs huffed. "Try and get yourself out of this one!"

Dutchy sat up and slid an arm around his partner. As he did, he gave Specs a little tickle on his ribs.

"I hate when you do that," Specs grumbled.

"No you don't," Dutchy grinned. "You love it. Now shut up and pay attention. You and I have something that none of them is ever going to have."

Specs snorted as he attempted to move away from Dutchy, only to feel his partner's strong arm tighten around him.

"Think about it, Specs. Everyone we know, including Race and Blink have one thing in common. They all had to find each other."

Specs tilted his head and peered over the top of his eyeglasses. "I know that you're trying to make a point here, Dutch, but for the life of me I can't figure out what it is."

"The point is that we are different. You and I never had to find each other because we have always been together. We didn't have to fall in love because we have always been in love. We were born that way. It's like God created us especially for each other. It's like he made our souls as a perfectly matched set. The only thing we had to do was to come down the birth canal. The rest was done for us . . . Do you remember all those photos that my mom gave us last year? We have an entire box of pictures showing us holding hands and kissing when we were running around in diapers. And we'll still be holding hands and kissing when we're very old and in diapers again."

"Well, that creates a strange mental picture," Specs grinned.

"No, that creates a very beautiful mental picture," Dutchy said reassuringly. "You are not just a part of my life, you are a part of me. We are that Specs/Dutchy creature that everyone used to call us."

Specs studied his partner's features. A feeling of warmth and desire washed over him as he looked at Dutchy's broad smile with its slightly crooked teeth. He knew that Dutchy was right. His first memories in life were of them together. An ache filled his chest as he searched the clear blue eyes before him.

"What?" Dutchy asked as he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" Specs asked.

"My guess would be that it's nearly as much as I love you," Dutchy grinned. "I don't think that either of us would have been born if the other wasn't. We really were made for each other."

Specs leaned in and pressed his lips gently against Dutchy's. "You're the best part of me," he said as he brushed the blonde hair away from his lover's eyes.

"We're the best part of each other," Dutchy smiled.

Suddenly, Specs's expression changed his and mood grew somber.

"I did lose you for a while," Specs said with his voice sounding strained. "It was like part of me had died . . . The best part."

* * *

Specs could see Dutchy from across the ball field. His long lean figure and light blonde hair made him easy to spot.

As he climbed the embankment that lead to the basketball court, Specs saw that there were four young men with Dutchy. Three were strangers and the other was Emilio Callo. He was one of Itey's younger brothers; everyone called him Email.

Before Specs reached the court, he saw Skittery Callo pull into the lot. He emerged from the old convertible carrying the broom handle that he used as a bat when playing stickball. As he walked toward the group, Skittery twirled the stick freely in one hand. The look on his face made it obvious that there was going to be trouble.

Specs quickly sized up the three strangers. From the abundance of gold chains and expensive leather jackets, he knew that the three were not from their part of town.

As Skittery turned his baseball cap backwards, he threw a nodding glance at Specs.

Specs nodded back asking, "Problem, Skitts?"

"Nope . . . Just need to get rid of some trash."

"Okay," Specs replied. The tone of his voice let Skittery know that he was ready to back him up.

As the two approached the group, Specs and Dutchy met eyes for just a moment, and then Dutchy looked down at the ground. He was shuffling his feet from side to side like a guilty child.

"I thought I told you scumbags to stay away from my brother," Skittery said in a loud yet emotionless tone.

One of the three stepped forward. He was obviously the leader of the group. "Gee, Callo," he said. "Me and my friends were just sitting here mindin' our own business when your brother and his friend come over and started talkin' ta us."

"Let me spell it out for you," Skittery spat as he grabbed him by the shirtfront. If I catch you or any of your guys around my brother or Dutchy again I'm gonna bash your skulls in. Is that clear enough for you?"

Dutchy took a tentative step forward. "Now wait a minute, Skitts - -"

Skittery raised the stick and pointed it at Dutchy. "You shut your fuckin' mouth, and keep it shut!"

The largest of the three stepped forward and made a grab for Skittery.

In a movement that was much like a battering ram, Skittery jabbed him in the abdomen with his stick. He fell to the ground gasping for air.

The third stepped forward and Specs interceded. Soon both of the strangers were on the ground and groaning in pain.

"Who do you think you are?" The leader hissed at Skittery.

"Who do I think I am?" Skittery mocked as he waved the stick in the leader's face. "I'm the stickball champion of Pulitzer Academy, 1988, and your worst fuckin' nightmare! And if I hear that you or any of your playmates come near either of them again, your mama is going to be scraping you off the sidewalk with a shovel and a stick!"

The three slithered back to their car and sped out of the lot.

Emilio looked at his brother then started to run. Skittery dropped the stick and was on him in three steps. He grabbed his brother by the back of the collar and slapped him in the head with his free hand, then shoved him down onto a picnic bench.

"I warned you about this, Emilio," Skittery hissed.

"I told you not to call me that," Emilio protested. "My name is Email!"

"I'll remind Mama and Papa about that when they're ordering your headstone," Skittery snapped as he gave his brother another slap in the head.

"Will somebody tell me what's going on here!" Specs shouted.

"Don't you know?" Skittery asked looking totally surprised. "Your boyfriend and my little brother were buying their drugs from those three bastards."

Specs was dumbfounded as he glared at Dutchy.

"It was only a little weed," Dutchy said as he stared at the ground.

"Weed my ass!" Skittery bellowed. "You don't get a nosebleed like that from smoking weed."

Dutchy reached up and touched his nose then looked at the blood on his fingers.

Specs pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it under Dutchy's nose. Dutchy pushed him away, but Specs shoved back even harder and placed the cloth back on his boyfriend's face.

"You want to tell me what this is all about?" Specs asked. When Dutchy didn't answer, he turned to Skittery for an explanation.

."Sorry, Specs. I thought you knew. I figured that you were here for the same reason I was: to catch Cheech and Chong here red handed and to kick the crap out of Pete and his buddies."

"No, I didn't know," Specs said as he glared at Dutchy. "You can imagine my surprise when I went over to your house and your mom told me that you and I were supposed to be studying together at the library. It seems that I needed your help preparing for some nonexistent history exam. I've spent the last two hours looking for you. So how long has this been going on?"

Still Dutchy gave no reply.

"I don't know," Skittery offered. "I can tell you that this isn't the first time they bought drugs from Pete."

"Why don't you mind your own fuckin' business!" Email spat.

"Not another word out of you, ya little shit!" Skittery shouted. "I warned both of them about this the last time I caught them. So today when I saw Dutchy coming out of the pawn shop, I figured that something was up. I followed them here and waited outside the lot until I saw Pete and his goons show up."

Skittery held onto Email while he searched his pockets. It wasn't long before he pulled out a small plastic bag of white powder.

Skittery leaned over Email and whispered, "You move one muscle and there will be one less kid at our dinner table tonight."

"Coke, Dutchy? You've been using cocaine?"

"I told you I was buying weed," Dutchy replied indignantly.

Specs studied Dutchy's guilty face.

"Well, where is it?" Specs asked. "Let me see what you bought."

"I didn't get a chance to buy anything. You two assholes chased them away."

Dutchy's words stung Specs ears. Asshole? Dutchy had never called him anything like that before.

"Okay then. If we chased them away before you had a chance to buy anything then show me your money."

"What?"

"Show me the money that you were going to use to buy the weed. If you didn't have a chance to buy anything then you should still have the money on you."

"So now you don't trust me?" Dutchy asked. "That really hurts."

"If I'm wrong, then I'll be happy to apologize. Now let me see the money."

"Fuck off!" Dutchy hissed.

Specs reached into his boyfriend's shirt pocket in search of the drugs.

Dutchy swung his fist which connected squarely with Specs's nose. The pocket ripped open as Specs fell against the picnic table. Dutchy froze momentarily as three pawnshop tickets fell from his pocket and floated to the ground.

When Dutchy bent over to pick them up, Skittery moved in and grabbed him around the middle, pinning his arms to his sides.

Specs regained his footing and reached into Dutchy's jeans pocket. He immediately found what he was looking for. It was a bag of white powder the same as Skittery had found on Email.

"Damn it, Dutchy! How could you be so stupid? . . . Drugs? . . . What do you need this crap for?"

"It's always so easy for you, isn't it, Specs? No matter what happens you pick yourself up and go on. How am I supposed to compete with that? Well, I can't be like you! And I hate the way you look at me! You remind me every day of what a pathetic loser I am! I can't stand the sight of you anymore!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Specs asked as he reached for Dutchy's arm.

For the second time in one day Dutchy hit Specs. This time the punch landed him on the ground and sent his glasses flying.

The shock stung more than the punch. They'd been together all their lives and had never fought. Of course they had argued. They'd even spent three days giving each other the silent treatment. Still, in all their years together they'd never really fought. And the thought of actually hitting each other was unthinkable.

Specs stood up and returned the punch. He was blind with rage. He felt as though he was fighting for his life. More accurately, he felt as though he was fighting for Dutchy's life. But this wasn't his Dutchy. This was some creature that was holding Dutchy captive.

Finally, Skittery managed to get them apart.

"I hate you!" Dutchy bellowed. "I hate the fucking sight of you! Just stay the hell away from me! I don't ever want to see you again!"

With that, Dutchy ran down the embankment and disappeared into the woods.

Dutchy's words hurt more than any of the physical blows Specs had just received.

Skittery told Email to go and wait for him in the car.

Email replied with his usual, "Fuck you!"

Skittery grabbed his brother by the front of his shirt and pulled him to his face. "Don't forget that there are twelve kids in our family. If I have to kill you, nobody is ever gonna notice that you're missing!"

Email went quietly and sat in the car.

Skittery picked up Specs's glasses. "They're bent, but they don't look too bad," he said. Then examining Specs's face he added, "That's more than I can say for you."

"What the fuck was that all about?" Specs hissed.

"It's the drugs," Skittery replied with more than a hint of disgust. "Email used to be the nicest kid. He was even sweeter than Itey. Now he's a little prick, and my parents don't know how to handle him. I keep tellin' them that if they don't do something soon then he is gonna end up dead. It kills me that I have to be so hard on my kid brother, but being nice doesn't help. Nobody wants to do it, but I think my parents are gonna have to send him away to get clean."

"I don't fucking believe this," Specs mumbled as he removed his torn shirt to wipe the blood and sweat from his face.

"I'm sorry, Specs. I really thought that you knew. This has been going on for a while now."

"I knew that he hasn't been himself lately. He's been drinkin', and I've seen him smoking pot, but I never suspected . . ."

"I think I'd better get you home," Skittery suggested. "It looks like that nose of yours may be broken." Then picking up the pawn tickets he said, "I think you'd better hold onto these."

-o-o-o-

Specs nose wasn't broken, but it was not a pretty sight. It was swollen, and bruised, and both of his eyes were turning black. He was lying on his bed shuffling the pawn tickets when Skittery came to check on him.

"What are you gonna do with those?" Skittery asked.

"I'd like to find out what these claim tickets are for. I think I know what this one is. Dutchy's guitar disappeared right around the date on the ticket. He said that it was in the shop being fixed but that was weeks ago. Every time I ask him about it he comes up with another lame excuse for why it isn't ready."

"Well, they're gonna know that the tickets don't belong to you if you if you have to ask what they're for. And they won't just tell you what he pawned. The only way to find out is to come up with the cash and claim them yourself. I have a feeling that you're gonna need a lot of cash too."

Specs got up and went over to his dresser. He reached into the back of the top drawer and pulled out a roll of bills wrapped with a rubber band.

"Do you think this will be enough?" Specs asked as he tossed the roll to Skittery

"What did you do, rob a bank or something?"

"No, I've been saving to buy a car. That old one that my parents got me is on its way out. I was hoping to save enough for a replacement before it gave out on me."

-o-o-o-

The pawn shop was a seedy little place. It smelled like mildew, and cigar smoke, and a few things that Specs was happy he couldn't recognize. The man behind the counter fit right in. He looked - and smelled - like he hadn't bathed in a week. Specs assumed that the wife beater shirt he was wearing had originally been white, but he couldn't be sure. The abundance of food splatters and overall grayness hid its original form.

"What the hell happened to you?" the man remarked when he looked at Specs's bruised face. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that no means no?"

Specs could feel his skin crawl as he saw the man's eyes move slowly down his body.

"Cut the crap!" Skittery said as he took the tickets from Specs and flung them on the counter. "We're here to claim this stuff."

The clerk matched the tickets with his ledger and looked at the two boys. "These aren't your tickets," he said. "These belong to a pretty blonde boy. I'd never forget a face like his!" The man's grin showed a horrifying collection of brown teeth and gaps where other teeth had once been.

Hearing this disgusting excuse for a human talk about Dutchy made Specs want to retch. For a moment he was drawn back to the night of the dance.

_Pretty. . . That is what Oscar kept saying. That Dutchy was pretty. "What do you expect," he said. "This is all your fault. Real men aren't pretty. But you're not a real man, are you? You're just a freak. If you were a real man you would be able to protect your boyfriend over here. But you can't, can you? You're just too pretty and too soft to do anything to help him. Take a look at your boyfriend . . . Do you see that? That's all your fault."_

Specs was snapped back to the present by the sound of Skittery's voice.

"Look you smarmy piece of shit!" Skittery hissed as he moved his face closer. "That boy happens to be our brother, and we don't appreciate your talking about him like that!"

The man remained cavalier and smirked back at Skittery. "Don't get me wrong, boys. You two ain't bad lookin' yourselves, but there is no way that blue eyed cutie is related to either one of you. Not with all that wavy dark hair and those big brown eyes."

Specs had finally reached his limit. "How about this you scumbag!" he shouted. "That boy is only seventeen years old and you're not permitted by law to do business with anyone under eighteen. So if you don't give us what we want we'll be back here in five minutes with every cop in town. They'll shut you and this stink-hole of a business down so fast that you won't know what hit you!"

"Alright, alright," he grumbled. "There's no reason to get upset." The man went into the back room and came out with the merchandise. Specs was so shaken at seeing the items, he had to give Skittery the money to pay the man.

As he was counting out the bills Skittery warned the man, "If I find out that you've been doing business with him, or any other kids, I'll make sure the cops put a lock on this place. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say," he replied.

When they went out to the car, Specs slumped into the passenger seat.

"What's wrong?" Skittery asked as he placed Dutchy's guitar in the back seat.

Specs opened the black velvet box and handed it to Skittery. "That's Dutchy's father's pocket watch. It's the only thing he owns that belonged to his dad. His mom saved it for him all these years. She gave it to him on his sixteenth birthday."

Specs removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The weight of the glasses was adding to the pain of his bruised face.

"Ya know, Skitts? Dutchy's mom had to sell just about everything to pay off the bills when her husband died. This was the one thing she refused to sell. His dad said that he wanted Dutchy to have it when he was old enough."

"His habit must be worse than I thought for him to sell this," Skittery said. "What's in the other box?"

Specs handed it over without speaking.

"This ain't so bad," Skittery said when he opened the box. "Lots of guys sell their class rings. I pawned mine twice when I first started college. Books are a lot more expensive than most people think."

"It's not Dutchy's," Specs said softly.

Skittery took the ring out of the box and looked at the inscription. "Damn, Specs. This is your ring."

"Yeah. I gave it to him after the spring dance last year. He hadn't removed it since then. I didn't even notice that he wasn't wearing it today."

"This is probably what he pawned this morning . . . Damn, Specs. I'm sorry."

-o-o-o-

Instead of driving home, Skittery pulled into the parking lot of the diner. He thought Specs looked like he needed to talk.

They sat in the one booth that was always available . . . The one next to the kitchen. It was a toss-up between which was worse: the smell of grease and onions that escaped each time the door opened or the sound of the pots clanging and the kitchen staff shouting at each other.

Irish was happy to see her friends walk in. She wasn't thrilled to be working at the diner, and the sight of two familiar faces was a welcome change.

"Hi guys. You must be really hungry if you're willing to sit back here."

"Nah, but we could use a couple of cups of coffee when you get a chance," Skittery smiled.

Irish returned with the coffeepot and two large mugs. "Hey, Specs. Where's Dutchy? I don't think that I've ever seen you without him?"

Specs didn't reply. He just gave Irish a sideways glance.

Irish looked at Skittery who raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

Irish took the hint and went back into the kitchen.

"Email started taking steroids to bulk up for the wrestling team," Skittery began. "It wasn't long before he was trying other stuff. Do you know why Dutchy started?"

"Yeah. But he made me promise not to tell."

"Look, Specs. I'm not saying that you should tell me. And I don't want you to think that I'm prying into your personal business, but you need to tell somebody. The kid obviously needs help, and keeping it quiet isn't doing him any good."

Reluctantly, Specs told Skittery the events of the fall dance. "He hasn't been right since then, Skitts. I don't know what I'm gonna do."

"So those pricks are still at it? I'm surprised that someone hasn't killed them by now."

"You know about the Delanceys?"

"Why do you think I started carrying that stick around with me? They tried to jump me three years ago after a stickball game. A home run wasn't the only thing I hit that day!"

"Well, why do they keep getting away with it? I keep hearing about more and more people those two animals have hurt. I've always known that they were a couple of pricks. They've been picking on kids for as long as I can remember, but I never heard about them . . . doing what they did to us. Why didn't anybody warn us? Why hasn't anyone said anything?"

"Why haven't you?" Skittery asked sharply.

Specs was taken aback by his friend's bluntness, but he knew that Skittery was right. The thought had crossed his mind repeatedly since that night but he pushed it out as quickly as it came. How many people have Morris and Oscar hurt since the night of the dance because he didn't say anything? It was easy for him to ask why didn't anybody warn him, but he also knew that he didn't warn anyone else.

"Look, Specs. We are all in the same boat. Nobody wants to say anything because they're ashamed. I felt the same way and they didn't even succeed with me. There is a stigma attached to what happened to you. Hell, you can't even call it by name. It was rape pal. But you, and me, and everyone else are ashamed to admit it. And don't think that it hasn't crossed my mind a hundred times that by keeping quiet I only made it easier for them to do it to someone else. I know damn well that you're thinking the same thing about yourself."

As they walked to the car, Specs asked Skittery not to say anything about getting Dutchy's belongings back from the pawnshop. He wanted to deal with it in his own way, and in his own time.

That evening Specs went over to Dutchy's house.

"My God, Daniel, what happened to your face?" Dutchy's mom asked.

"I'm okay Mrs. S. We had a pick-up game down at the court today, and I took a couple of elbows to the face. You know basketball never was my best sport."

"That's putting it mildly," she replied as she examined his bruises. "I think that you'd better stick to track and swimming from now on."

"Will do, Mrs. S. Is Dutchy in his room? I picked up his guitar from the repair shop, and I know that he's anxious to get it back."

"Go on up dear. And I hope that you can cheer him up. Adam has been in a bad mood all day."

When he reached Dutchy's room Specs could hear We're not Gonna Take it by Twisted Sister blaring from the stereo. "Well, he's still pissed," Specs mumbled. "He always plays that damn song when he wants to kick somebody's ass."

After knocking several times and receiving no response, Specs leaned the guitar against the wall out in the hall and let himself in.

"I thought I told you that I didn't want - - Shit! Are you alright?"

"I'm okay. It looks a lot worse than it is."

"Oh God I'm sorry. You know I'd never want to hurt you."

"I know," Specs assured him as he went over and turned of the stereo. "But we do need to have a talk."

"I know," Dutchy said flopping himself down on the bed and burying his face in his hands. "I don't know how I let it get this far. It started out just because I wanted to have a little fun."

"First of all you've got to stop lying," Specs said as he sat on the bed next to Dutchy. "We both know why you started, and it had nothing to do with having a little fun. You haven't been right since the night of the dance."

"That's got nothing to do with it. And you promised that you weren't going to bring that up again."

"That has everything to do with it, and we are going to talk about it. I should never have made that promise. Covering up what happened to us has only made things worse. We didn't do anything wrong. We should have gone to the police right away."

"Oh sure. That would have fixed everything. You know damn well it would have been another case of the fags had it coming. We would have been the joke of the police station and the joke of school."

"You never cared what anyone thought about us before this happened. . . .Dutchy? Are you ashamed of us now?"

"No. I'm not ashamed of us! But I'm no fool either. We were idiots to think that we could get away with flaunting our relationship. Nobody wants to see us together. We make half of the people who see us together feel sick, and we make the other half wish we were dead. We're nothing but a couple of freaks and you know it!"

"I can't believe you're talking like this. And we don't flaunt our relationship. We're the same people we've always been. We never needed anyone else or their approval. And we're not freaks! Oscar put that one in your head."

"Stop it! I said that I don't want to talk about that anymore. Why do you insist on rubbing my face in that? I'm sorry, alright! I'm sorry that I let that happen to you. I'm sorry that I wasn't man enough to stop it. I know that it's my fault, but I didn't mean for it to happen!"

"What do you mean that it was your fault? None of that was your fault. You couldn't have stopped those pricks. They were looking for trouble and we just happened to be the one's they took it out on. Do you think that what they did to Racetrack was his fault? He had as much right to be in that gym as anyone. Just because he was there didn't mean that it was okay for those pricks to do that to him!"

"Get real Specs. The world thinks that we are freaks. That's why."

"Then what about Skittery? He told me that they went after him a few years ago, and he's not gay. And I defy anyone to call him a freak to his face. Anyone! Was it okay for them to go after him just because he beat them in a stickball game? . . . That's Crazy."

"Oh now you think I'm crazy?"

"Okay. This has gone far enough. Arguing about this isn't going to do either of us any good. And besides, I don't think that my nose can take another argument with you today."

"I really am sorry about that."

"I know. And to show you that there are no hard feelings I brought you a present."

Specs went out into the hall and came back in with the guitar.

"So then you know what I did?"

"Yeah, I found the ticket. I figured that you've been selling stuff to get the money to pay Pete . . . Anyway, I got this back for you."

"Thank God you found the tickets. I went back and searched all over, but I couldn't find them. I don't know how, but I'll get the money for the other stuff."

"I don't have the other tickets," Specs said. "This was the only one I could find."

What?

"Yeah. This was it." Specs felt awful lying to Dutchy, but he didn't feel that he had any choice. He didn't trust Dutchy not to pawn the items again. And if Dutchy did pawn them, Specs knew that he couldn't come up with the money to buy them back again. It took almost everything he had saved to get them back this time.

Dutchy's chest tightened as one of the few real memories of his father flashed into his mind. He was sitting up on his father's lap, and being lulled to sleep by the gentle sound of the pocket watch in his vest.

Dutchy couldn't member his father's face except for the few yellowed photographs on his mother's dresser, but the grey and black pattern of his father's vest was as clear to him as if he had seen it yesterday. He could almost feel the wool garment against his cheek as the smell of pipe tobacco, spiced cologne, and the soothing cadence of the watch flooded his mind.

Dutchy's hands began to tremble and he struggled to get them under control. A glaring patch of white skin drew his attention to his ring finger. It was like a ghost image of what was once in its place. He remembered the night that Specs had given him the ring.

Their relationship was easy and natural. There was no beginning. It has always been. They never felt a need to speak about their future. Spending the rest of their lives together was a given. It would simply be a part of the natural progression of the way things should be.

Dutchy recalled how surprised he was when Specs began to talk about their future.

"You know that I love you," Specs said. "And I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"I know," Dutchy replied. "I love you too."

"Please, Dutch. I know that keeping quiet isn't something that you're very good at, but if you would just shut-up for a minute and let me say what's on my mind it would make this a lot easier."

"Okay," Dutchy replied cautiously.

"You and I are never going to have the kind of life that conventional couples have. There aren't going to be any ceremonies or parties celebrating our decision to be together. It's just going to be you and me like it's always been."

"That's always been good enough for me," Dutchy interrupted.

"Damn-it Dutch! Would it kill you to be quiet for just one minute? What I'm trying to say is that want something tangible to represent our commitment to each other."

Specs slid the ring from his finger and held it up to Dutchy. "This is my commitment to you. This is my promise that I will always love you and that I will always be there for you."

The memory of Specs sliding the ring onto his finger sent a combination of panic, nausea, and remorse through Dutchy's body. He never needed a fix more than he did at that moment.

"I really am sorry about all of this, Specs. You know that I never wanted any of this to happen."

"I know," Specs said as he moved Dutchy's blond hair away from his eyes. "But you can't keep taking drugs. I can't stand to see you like this."

"I'll stop," Dutchy said as he laid his head on Specs shoulder. "I promise I will."

* * *

"That was the start of some pretty bad times for both of us," Dutchy sighed. "I don't know how you managed to stay with me through all of that."

"How could I not want to stay with you?" Specs whispered against his cheek. "It's like you said, God created us to be together. Who am I to question the wisdom of the almighty?"

A slight shudder ran through his spine as Dutchy looked into Specs's eyes. He was sure that he could see the beauty of his lover's soul, and his own, in their soothing darkness.

"Hey. What are you two so serious about?" Spot called out.

"We were just talking about when I went over to the dark side," Dutchy replied.

Their conversation was interrupted by David and Itey's laughter. Then Itey put a new CD into the player.

"Oh no!" Spot shouted when the music started to play. "You ain't gonna play that shit around me!"

Itey responded by turning up the volume.

It was the Macarena. Spot absolutely hated the Macarena.

David and Itey started to dance. Soon Chris and Mush joined them.

"Itey, you son of a bitch! You know I hate it when you play that!"

Itey just smiled at Spot and waved.

"What's the problem?" Tony asked.

"Itey knows that I can't stand that song. He used to play it over and over when we were in the Corps just to piss me off!"

"Well, it still works," Tony grinned. "You keep this up, and you're going to give yourself a stroke!"

"Yeah, lighten up, Spot," Jack laughed.

"What are you laughing?" at Spot grumbled. "That's your wife making a fool out of himself out there."

"Well, Spot. If you can't beat 'im then join 'im." Specs said as he pulled Dutchy out onto the floor.

"That's it!" Spot shouted as he fought back his laughter. "I can't stand it. You're all insane! I'm giving up on men! From now on, it's women all the way!"

"Well if that's the way you feel my ex-wife is always looking for a good time," Mush laughed. "Why don't you give her a call?"

"Give me her number, and I will!" Spot laughed back.

"Why should I bother to write it down for you? Just go into the men's room and copy it off the wall yourself!"

"You have to admit it guys," Jack said as he watched David and the others dancing. "We do have a strange group of friends!"

End Chapter 14

Thank you for reading. Please Review.


	15. Intrinsic Value

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. I know, I know. You all thought that I did, but you were mistaken.

To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney, but were they mine I would gladly share them with all of you. (Except for Skittery and Specs, who would be on permanent loan to SakiSaki.)

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

I am making no money from this story. (Bet that comes as a great surprise to y'all.)

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.

* * *

**A/N:** Beta credit goes to SakiSaki who took time from writing "Night of the Living Scabs" to help me become a better writer. Anyone who hasn't read it is missing out on the funniest story ever.

* * *

Chapter 15 - Intrinsic Value

Spot stepped out of Tony's room sporting his new blue suit. It was the first suit that he'd ever owned. He'd taken all of the money that he saved from his part time jobs and picked it out himself. He was not about to say goodbye to Mr. Higgins in his street clothes.

The sleeves of the jacket were a little too long, and the hem of the trousers pooled slightly over his freshly shined shoes. His new brown necktie looked a little odd with his black belt and shoes, but the look of pride on Spot's face more than made up for any fashion deficiencies.

"How do I look?" Spot asked as he pulled at the itchy starched collar of his new white shirt.

"You look great," Tony replied. Knowing that the suit had cost Spot every cent he'd saved somehow made the cheap and ill fitting garment look like it had been custom made.

"Bring me the scissors from the kitchen drawer," Mrs. Higgins said. "I'll cut the tags off for you."

Mrs. Higgins smiled as she snipped the thin piece of plastic that held the tag. There in bold black letters was the price. $69.50.

As she cut the tag from his trouser pocket, Mrs. Higgins glanced at Tony and they both choked back a chuckle. Spot had always been very thin, but there was enough fabric in the seat of his pants to fit two of him.

"Are you sure I look okay, Mrs. H? They had another suit that cost less but I wanted to look good for Mr. H."

She stood and gave Spot a kiss on the cheek. "You look like an angel," she said as she walked into the kitchen.

"Angel?" Spot grumbled looking at Tony. "I look like a fuckin' angel?"

"Don't sweat it," Tony laughed. "All moms talk like that. She just means that you look good is all."

"But she said that I look like an angel!" Spot huffed.

"At least she didn't say that you looked like a fairy," Tony said as he grabbed Spot into a head lock.

-o-o-o-o-

After the funeral everyone was invited back to the Higgins home for a luncheon.

Tony watched from across the room as Spot brought his mother a cup of tea. To anyone else this would have looked strange, but not to Tony. He knew Spot better than anyone.

He knew that there was a part of this tough guy that wasn't tough at all

Spot had stayed with the family since they left the emergency room. The only time he left them was to go into town to buy his new suit. Anything that the family wanted or needed Spot was there to make sure that it was taken care of.

After a few minutes of watching, Tony went over and whispered to Spot, and then they both went into Tony's bedroom.

"So how ya doin', Spot?" Tony asked.

"Whadda ya mean, how am I doin'? I'm the one who should be asking you how you're doin'."

"Spot, you've done nothing but take care of Mama, Reggie, and me for the past three days. I want to know how you're holding up through all of this."

"Jeese, Race. You're the one who lost his father, not me. I'm fine."

"Cut the crap, Spot! This is me you're talking to. So stop pretending that you aren't hurting, 'cause I know that you are."

"I'm fine, Race, okay? I'm just fine. There's no reason for you to be worried about me. I'm okay."

"Jeese, Spot. You're thick as shit, and you'll never change."

"Why should I change? I'm already perfect!"

"You're such an ass," Tony grinned.

"Yeah, but I'm an ass with a perfect ass.

"Oh yeah?" Tony smirked as he leaned back and checked out the seat of Spot's trousers. "It looks a little skinny to me."

"That's because you like big asses like Blink's."

"Blink does not have a big ass! You just think he does because you don't have any ass at all. I don't know what keeps you from sliding off the couch when you sit down to watch T.V."

"Yeah, Yeah. You keep tellin' yourself that, pal. Then when you and Blink are old and grey, you'll have to buy an extra wide couch just so you can sit together to make out."

The two boys laughed and wrestled until Tony's mood became serious again.

"Look, Spot. Mama, Reggie, and I were talking, and we decided that we want you to have this." Tony reached into his closet and took out his father's walking stick.

"Are you nuts? You can't give that away. It belongs to your dad!"

"Jeese, Spot. Don't make it sound like I stole it out of his room when he wasn't lookin'."

"You _are_ nuts! You don't go givin' away stuff like that. It's yours now. You've gotta keep that in the family."

"Well if it's mine then I can do what I want with it, so I'm givin' it to you. Let's face it. You had more contact with this thing than anyone else," Tony grinned as he shoved the stick into Spot's hand.

"Boy, Mr. H. rapped me on the ass more than once with this," Spot smiled as tested the feel of the stick in his hands.

"He only did it when you had a smart mouth which, for you, was quite often. . . Hey, maybe that's why you have such a flat ass!"

Tony watched Spot's face as he examined the stick. He looked almost childlike as he ran his hand along the smooth dark wood and up to the ornate gold handle. A slight smile came to Spot's face as he lightly touched the worn area where the wood had taken on a warm glow from its owner's grip. He looked a bit unsure as he slowly wrapped his fingers around the stick. It was almost as though he was seeing it for the first time.

"Mama wanted you to have this too," Tony said as he reached into his jacket pocket. "It's that picture of you and Papa at his last birthday party. He kept it on his dresser with the pictures of me, and Reggie, and Mama."

Spot looked at the picture and he couldn't hold back any longer. He sat down on Tony's bed and began to cry. The taste of salt as the tears touched Spot's lips made him want to gag. It was something that he hadn't tasted in years, and something that he'd struggled to forget. He'd sworn never to be weak, or helpless, or to ever cry again. That was something from his past. That was something from before his life with the Kellys, before accepting who he was, and before he'd met Mr. Higgins.

"God, Race. What am I gonna do without him to talk to? What am I gonna do? I miss him so much," he groaned. "He was all I had, Race. What am I gonna do?"

Tony froze for just a moment as his mind processed what was happening. Spot was crying. . . . But Spot Conlon didn't cry. . . . _Ever!_

Tony sat down on the bed and put his arm around Spot. "I know you miss him," Tony said softly. "I know you do. But you're wrong when you say that Pop was all you had. You got me and Reggie and Mama. And you got Jack and Mrs. Kelly, too. I know that it isn't the same, but you can always come to me when you want to talk. Day or night I'm here if you need me. You do know that, right? And you already know that I can keep a secret better than anyone."

"I know," Spot said as he laid his head on Tony's shoulder.

Nothing more was said. They remained that way until Chris knocked at the door. "Are you guys alright in there?" he asked.

"Jeese, Race. Please don't let him in here. I don't want him to see me like this, okay?"

"Sure, Spot. No problem."

Tony opened the door just a crack. "Everything is fine, Blink," Tony assured him. "Why don't you go around back, and I'll meet you in a little while."

Chris smiled at Tony and nodded. "Take all the time you need," he said.

Tony locked the door and sat back down next to Spot.

"I know that Blink is a nice guy and all, but I don't want anyone to see me like this," Spot said as he sat up straight and took a deep breath.

"I understand," Tony said.

Spot stood up and looked out the window. He watched as Chris crossed the yard and went to sit on the double swing. That was where Mr. and Mrs. Higgins sat every evening after supper.

"I know he's your boyfriend and everything, but the last thing I need is for him to start grinnin' at me," Spot smiled.

"I guess award winning smiles aren't for everyone," Tony chuckled.

"Oh please," Spot smirked looking more like himself. "I keep tellin' ya that nobody should smile that much. It ain't natural."

"Well, like I said, winning smiles aren't for everyone. And besides, who ever said that you had good taste?" Tony laughed.

"I guess you're right," Spot replied smugly. "I was hooked up with you for a while, wasn't I?"

"You're such an ass," Tony laughed again as he gave Spot a shove.

"Yeah. But I'm an ass with a prefect ass. Now go on outside to your boyfriend. This is the longest the two of you have been ever been separated. I wouldn't want you to suffer from smile depravation or something."

"So you're okay then?"

"Sure, Race. I'm fine. . . And thanks for these," Spot said holding up the picture and walking stick. "I'm just gonna sit in here for a while if it's okay with you?"

"No problem," Tony replied. "Just so long as you don't do somethin' disgusting like go through my underwear drawer."

"Well, why the hell would I wanna' do something gross like go through your nasty underwear?"

"Cause you're a perv," Tony smirked as he gave Spot a shove."

"And I'm damn proud of it!" Spot laughed.

o-o-o-o

Tony leaned his head on Chris' shoulder as they swayed back and forth in the double swing.

"So how's Spot doing?" Chris asked.

"He's okay," Tony sighed. "I mean, he's got us and the Kelly's who love him, but . . ."

"But what?"

"But I've got you to lean on and to love me. Spot doesn't have that, and he could really use it right now."

"It's a shame that he hasn't found anyone special," Chris mused. "I guess he hasn't met the right person yet."

An ache filled Spot's chest as he watched Chris and Tony from the window. He was thinking about Mush. Spot had telephoned him several times a day since Jack's party, but Mush refused to speak to him. Spot missed him so much that thinking about Mush caused him physical pain.

"Well, Mr. H," Spot said as he looked at the picture, "you picked a fine time to check out. First Mushie leaves me and then you. What the hell am I gonna do now?"

After a few moments, Spot stood up and put the picture into his pocket. Then he walked over to the mirror that was hanging on the back of the door. "Well, Mr. H. The last thing you told me was to be patient with Mush and to give him time." Spot looked at himself wearing his new suit and carrying Mr. Higgins' walking stick. He nodded at himself in the mirror and smiled. "Thanks, Mr. H," he said. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do."

* * *

"And you've still got Pop's walking stick after all these years?" Tony asked. 

"Of course I do," Spot said as he drew the stick out of his duffel bag. "I wouldn't let anything happen to this."

"Are you kidding?" Specs laughed. "He used to carry that thing with him all the time when we were working undercover. It was his trademark. All the street kids used to say that he looked like a king when he was carrying that. And when he isn't carrying it, he has it hanging on his living room wall under a picture of him and Mr. H."

"Gee, Spot. Let me guess," Tony smirked. "Is it the picture of you and Pop on his last birthday?"

"Yeah. I had it blown up and framed years ago. It makes me feel like he's kinda watching out for me. Here's the original," Spot said, taking out his wallet. "That picture has been with me every day since you gave it to me. I carried it through the Gulf War, working out on the street, and everywhere else. It's kind'a like my lucky charm. I wouldn't go anywhere without it."

Tony looked at the picture, and a warm feeling filled his chest. He was a bit surprised when he noticed the picture next to it. Tony looked at Mush and handed him the wallet. Mush's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open.

"Spot?" he said as he pulled him away from the others. "This is the picture that Dutchy took of you and me our last summer together."

"Yeah, it is,' Spot smiled.

"Don't tell me that you have been carrying this around with you all these years?"

"Sure I have, Mushie," Spot said as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I told you that I never forgot about you. And I told you that I never stopped loving you. Why are you surprised that I still have your picture?"

"Damn, I love you," Mush said as he threw his arms around Spot.

"I love you too, Mushie-Boy," Spot whispered, giving Mush a kiss on the neck.

Spot walked to the far end of the room to get another beer from the cooler. He took one last look at the pictures, then slid the wallet back in to his pocket. Then he glanced quickly over his shoulder to make sure nobody was near. "Well, Mr. H," Spot said, looking at the walking stick. "I did it. I stayed strong and I waited for Mush just like you told me to do when we had that last talk of ours." He looked up toward the ceiling and waved the walking stick. "But you never told me I was gonna have to wait this long!"

End – Chapter 15

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.


	16. Put the Cat in the Dishwasher

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. I know, I know. You all thought that I did, but you were mistaken.

To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney, but were they mine I would gladly share them with all of you.

I am making no money from this story. (I bet that came as a big surprise to y'all.)

* * *

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.

* * *

**A/N: **As most of you know, my stories have benefited greatly from the guidance and beta skills of SakiSaki. She is now moving on to explore new and exciting things outside of the fanfiction world. I wish her great success, and give her my undying gratitude for all of her help. 

I am thrilled to announce that pennylayne has offered to be my new beta. She is one of my all-time favorite authors and one of the nicest and funniest people around. She is also the quintessential overachiever. She not only beta'd this chapter, but has completed the next chapter as well. I have a feeling that I'm in for one heck of a ride!

* * *

Chapter 16 – Put the Cat in the Dishwasher 

Spot took a long and slow look around the gymnasium. I can't believe it, he thought. Here we are. All of us back together again. Then his eyes traveled to the handsome man lying next to him. Mush was sleeping soundly. So soundly that Spot wondered if his snoring would awaken the others.

Suddenly Mush made a noise that was so loud it made Spot jump. It was a combination snorting, snoring, and coughing sound. Mush sat up in the sleeping bag and looked around the room. It was obvious that he was still half asleep and had no idea where he was.

"It's okay, Mushie," Spot whispered. "You're with me and the guys in the Pulitzer Gym. Go back to sleep." Spot's voice seemed to calm him, and then Mush lay back down and rolled onto his side. The sound of his snoring was again loud and strong.

A combination of pleasure and contentment surrounded Spot as he reached down and stroked Mush's hair. It was so different from his own. Back when they were in school, Spot would often catch himself inadvertently touching the wiry curls. Their unique texture was pleasing to his fingertips.

Spot thought that he was the only one still awake in the gym, and was surprised to hear the sound of paper rustling. It drew his attention across the room to where Jack and David had been sleeping. Jack was now sitting propped against the stage and writing in a notebook.

Spot stroked Mush's hair one last time and then went to sit by Jack.

"Whadda you doin', Jacky-boy?" Spot whispered so he wouldn't wake David.

"I'm writing in my journal," Jack said without looking up. His face was illuminated by a tiny battery-operated book light clamped to his notebook. Spot chuckled inside at the intense expression on Jack's face. His brows were pulled so close together that they almost met, and he'd clenched his lips so tight that they were barely visible.

"You keep a diary?" Spot grinned.

"Uh-huh," Jack answered. He was still writing and deep in his thoughts. His reply was merely a reflex action.

"Who woulda thought it? Cowboy Kelly keeps a diary. You're such a girl, Jack."

"Uh-huh. . . . Huh? What? No! This isn't a diary. It's a journal."

"It's the same thing."

"No, it isn't the same thing. This is something that David talked me into doing back in high school. He said that it would help me to become a better writer. "

"Well, what do you write about?"

"All kinds of stuff. . . . My thoughts mostly. Things like how it feels to be with you guys again, and where I want to be five years from now. Sometimes I get an idea for an article or a story, and I'll write it down while it's still fresh in my mind. Anything I want to remember I write in the journal."

"Your apartment must be loaded with those things if you've been writing since high school?"

"Uh-huh," Jack mumbled, having gone back to his writing. His expression was again intense as his hand moved feverishly across the page. After several minutes, his face softened, then he finished his last few lines and closed the book.

"What's going on?" Tony whispered as he plopped down next to Spot.

"Jacky here was tellin' me about writing in his diary."

"It's not a diary, moron. It's a journal."

"Whatever you say, Cowboy," Spot grinned. "Have you ever kept a journal, Race?"

"Hell no! I prefer to keep my thoughts in my head where they belong. Your secrets aren't secret once you've written them down where anyone can see them. I wouldn't want any of my private business to come back and bite me in the ass later."

"Where's my damn shoes!" David mumbled.

"What the hell?" Tony snorted.

"He's talking in his sleep," Jack chuckled. "He does it all the time. It never makes any sense. Just gibberish, ya know?"

"Gonna be late, Jack," David mumbled. "Gooooonna be late. Put the cat in the dishwasher and let's go!"

"See what I mean?" Jack said trying to quiet his laughter.

"Shit! I feel sorry for your cat," Tony sniggered.

"We don't have a cat. . . Hell, we don't even have a dishwasher!" Jack laughed.

"What's so funny?" David grumbled, lifting his head slightly and glaring at Jack.

"Nothin', Dave," Jack smiled. "You were talking in your sleep again."

"Well, either keep your voices down, or find someplace else to talk!"

Tony and Spot slipped away quietly to avoid the wrath of David.

Jack leaned over and whispered something into David's ear and smiled. David whispered something in return as a broad smile covered his face. Jack kissed him gently and then went to join the others in the bleachers.

"What were you whisperin' to Davey?" Spot asked.

"None of your damn business," Jack smirked.

"Jeeze, it's cold in here," Tony grumbled while rubbing his arms for warmth.

"I've got just the thing to warm you up," Spot said

"Sorry, pal but you ain't my type."

"You should be so lucky, little man," Spot replied. Then he sauntered over to his duffel bag.

"I was referring to this," Spot grinned as he handed Tony a bottle of Irish whiskey.

"My hero!" Tony said, grabbing the bottle. He took two large swallows then passed the bottle to Jack.

"Do you remember the first time we had this stuff?" Spot asked.

"I sure do," Tony laughed. "It was the night of Itey's eighteenth birthday party. I swiped it out of my dad's liquor cabinet. I figured that my mom would never notice it missing. She never touched the stuff and - -"

**BANG!**

The hallway door of the gym flew open and slammed against the wall. The sound was chilling as it echoed through the empty room.

"What the hell are you degenerates doing in here?!" the intruder shouted.

The bright lights in the hallway back lit the man's body so that his features were unrecognizable. But there was something that Spot and Specs both saw. They noticed immediately. The barrel of a rifle extended from the man's arm.

"Everybody get down!" Spot shouted. He instinctively reached for his gun, but it wasn't there. He had removed the holster when he arrived and stored it with his belongings against the wall.

Specs had already drawn his weapon and was half lying over Dutchy to protect him. "Freeze!" he shouted. "Put your hands where I can see them!"

Spot scrambled across the room and pulled his holster from his duffel. "Drop the gun!" Spot shouted.

Jack made a move to get back to David.

"Stay where you are!" Specs ordered.

Tony's breath caught in his chest as he locked eyes with Chris. They were at least fifty feet apart, and Chris was lying in the path between Specs, Spot, and the intruder.

Tony attempted to move forward, but Chris shook his head pleading for him to stay put.

Tony's heart pounded in his ears as he dug his fingernails into the worn wood of the bleachers. The seconds passed like hours with Chris lying unprotected in the middle of the gym.

There were few moments of confusion with everyone shouting as Spot wrestled the gunman to the ground.

Soon Specs was standing over the intruder with his gun still drawn, and Spot was putting him in handcuffs.

Tony jumped from the bleachers and was at Chris's side before he could make his way out of the sleeping bag.

Spot rolled the man over and gaped at the sight. "Skittery? . . . What the hell?!"

"You stupid son of a bitch!" Specs shouted. "Were you trying to get yourself shot?!"

Specs walked over to what he and Spot thought was a rifle barrel. "Will you look at this?" he called to Spot. "It's a stick ball bat. This jackass almost got himself shot waving a stick ball bat!"

"Damn-it, you guys," Skittery groaned as he struggled against the handcuffs. "It was only a joke. When I looked through the door and saw how quiet you all were I figured that I'd liven things up. It was just a joke."

"Why, you ignorant bastard," Itey hissed. "Take those cuffs off him so I can kick his ass!"

"Oh come on, little brother," Skittery pleaded from the floor. "Where's your sense of humor?"

"Leave those cuffs right where they are!" Tony demanded. "I almost peed myself back there!"

"Calm down, Race," Spot said, trying to defuse the situation. "As much as I'd like to leave him like this, I can't. The only thing he's guilty of is being a moron."

"Damn-it, Spot. If you remove those cuffs, first I'm gonna kick his ass, then I'm gonna kick yours!

"It's okay, Tony," Chris assured him. "It was only a stupid joke. Nobody got hurt."

Tony opened his mouth to argue, but Chris smiled and it was all over. He never could refuse Chris anything once he'd seen that smile. "Fine!" he huffed as he stormed back toward the bleachers.

"Is somebody gonna take these damn cuffs off'a me?!" Skittery shouted.

"Okay, Okay. Hold your water," Specs said, unlocking the cuffs and then offering him a hand up.

They stared at each other for a long moment until Specs turned and walked toward the door. He picked up the stick then quickly tossed it to its owner.

Skittery's eyes never left Specs's. He reached out with one hand and caught the stick with little effort.

"You've still got it," Specs said, nodding with approval.

"Did you have any doubts?" Skittery grinned as he twirled the stick like he'd done so many times before.

A flood of emotions surrounded Specs as he embraced his old friend. He owed Skittery more than he could ever repay. It was Skittery who helped him through the worst time in his life and in Dutchy's life. Specs was sure that without Skittery's help neither of them would have survived Dutchy's drug addiction.

"What the hell are you doing here? Itey didn't tell me that you were coming."

"I didn't know he was coming," Itey grumbled. "What _are _you doing here? You said that you had to be in LA to cover the Lakers game this weekend."

"I cut a deal with one of the guys back at the station," Skittery said. He reached out and snatched the bottle of whiskey from Spot's hand just as he was about to take a drink. "He agreed to cover this game if I agreed to cover for him on his kid's birthday. I flew out to LA yesterday and did some pre-game interviews. When I was through, I hopped a late flight back to New York. I figured I'd surprise you."

"Well you succeeded," Itey snapped. "How did you get into the building, anyway? I've got this place locked down tighter than a drum."

"I let myself into your place through the back window," Skittery smirked as he took a sip of whiskey. "I remembered where you keep your spare keys, so I took them from the top drawer of your dresser. Then I let myself out your front door and came here."

"You broke into my apartment? . . . You shit!"

"Now, now, Brother Joseph," Skittery smirked. "You wouldn't want Sister Regina to find out that you've been using that kind of language."

Skittery took another drink, and then handed the bottle back to Spot. "So what have I missed?" he asked.

"Well, the Pulitzer business has been put on hold until tomorrow," Itey replied.

"Mostly we've been talking about old times," Jack said. "Well, all except for Race that is. The only thing he wants to talk about is the astronomical amount of incredible sex he and Blink have had over the years. . . . And be careful where you sit," Jack warned. "The two of them have had sex on just about every surface in this place!"

Everyone, especially Jack, was waiting for one of Tony's witty replies, but none came. Tony hadn't gotten over the fright of seeing Chris caught in the line of fire. He didn't even hear Jack. All he heard was the sound of his own heart as he struggled to get his breathing under control.

"Jack's just jealous," Chris smirked, tightening his grip around Tony's shoulder. "He's gotten old and can't keep up."

"You mean, Jack's gotten old and can't keep it up," Spot laughed.

"Stop picking on Jack," David smirked. "I told you before that he's damn good in that department."

"Jeeze!" Itey groaned. "You guys talk about sex more than my eighth-graders!"

"Jealousy's an ugly thing, little brother," Skittery laughed, tousling Itey's hair.

"So are you," Itey grumbled, smacking Skittery's hand away from his head.

"Anyway," Jack said regaining control of the conversation. "We were just talking about the time Race stole the bottle of Irish whiskey from his dad's liquor cabinet so he could bring it to Itey's eighteenth birthday party."

"I remember how much I was looking forward to that party," Chris said. "It seemed like Tony had been away forever."

-o-o-o-o-

The day after her husband's funeral, Mrs. Higgins took Reggie and Tony to visit her sister in Manhattan. They were gone for more than three weeks.

Sister Mary Larkson had prepared the children's lessons in advance so they wouldn't fall behind on their studies.

Tony and Chris talked on the phone whenever they could, but spent most of their spare time writing to each other.

Tony missed Chris terribly, but he knew that his mother needed this time away from home. He was, however, more than ready to come home after the second week when he received his eighth letter from Chris.

_Dear Race,_

_I miss you very much. I hope your mom is feeling better. Tell her and Reggie that I said hi._

_School stinks without you. Everything stinks without you. Homework stinks with or without you._

_Thursday is Itey's eighteenth birthday. He still refuses to have his birthday party until Reggie comes back. I'm glad because I don't want to go without you. He really likes Reggie. Do you think that they are in love? He said that the party will be on the 19 th. You are still going to be home on the 17th aren't you? I know that you have to be with your mom and Reggie but I wish you could come home sooner. I really miss you._

_All of the guys say hi. All except for Mush. He doesn't say anything to anybody. What's up with that?_

_I have a funny story to tell you. Jack and I were shooting hoops in my driveway and I missed the shot and got the ball stuck on the roof. I climbed out my mom's bedroom window to get the ball, and I fell off the roof and broke my leg. _

_Don't worry! I am okay! Jack drove me to the hospital and they put on a cast. It goes from my foot all the way up almost to my hip. Spot's pissed because I won't let anybody sign the cast until you do. Spot only wants to write stuff on it that I wouldn't want the doctor or my mom to read anyway. I can't go to school until next week, so Attila sent me the same homework that she gave you. Getting a week off from school is pretty cool, but it would be a lot more fun if you were with me. The bad part is that I'm off the swim team. The season will be over before I'm back on my feet. Ha Ha. Do you get it? Back on my feet? I'm kinda pissed because Coach said that I could have easily taken all county. _

_I miss you very very much. I hope that you miss me too. I will write you again tomorrow._

_Love, Blink_

_P.S. I almost forgot to tell you. Itey said that Specs and Skittery caught Dutchy and Email buying drugs. It was coke. I guess Dutchy is a lot more screwed up than we thought he was._

End Chapter 16

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.


	17. Call Me

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. (Surprise, surprise, and surprise.) To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

* * *

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

* * *

I am making no money from this story. (Bet that comes as a great surprise to y'all.)

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was beta'd by the amazingly talented and infinitely patient, pennylayne.

* * *

Chapter 17 – Call Me

Irish sat at the lunch counter, writing in her notebook. She let out an exasperated groan and tore the paper from its binding, then crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the trash.

"Two points," A voice came from behind.

It was her brother William.

"Hi, Billy," she grinned as she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "What brings you here?"

"I volunteered to pick up the squad's dinner order. I figured it would give me a chance to see my baby sister."

"I didn't recognize you with all that black hair and the mustache."

"That's one of the drawbacks of working undercover. Half the time I scare the hell out of myself when I wake up in the morning and look in the mirror."

"Well it is kind of creepy," Irish laughed as she flicked the obviously dyed mop that was hanging in her brother's face.

"It does have its benefits though. Last month it drove Mom absolutely crazy to see me with the ponytail and earring. She said that I looked more like her daughter than you did."

"Jeeze, Billy, don't you start in on me, too. First Mom got on my case about wearing clothes that make me look like a boy, then Attila the Nun tortures me for wearing skirts that show too much of what she calls my _female business_. Sometimes I think that the only way I can please everybody is to join the convent and start wearing the penguin outfit."

"Somehow, I don't think that the convent is ready for you!" he laughed.

When the bell atop the door rang, Irish turned and saw Specs and Skittery come through the door and head for the end table.

"Hi, guys," She called as she hopped off the stool. "How's it goin'?"

"Can't complain. How's that essay coming?" Specs laughed as he slid into the booth.

"That's very funny!" she huffed.

"What's so funny about an essay?" Skittery asked.

"Irish had a run-in with Attila today, and now she has to write a one-thousand word essay on the behavior of a proper young lady."

"Man! You should know better than to face off with that tough old bird," Skittery laughed.

"If you two don't stop laughing, I'll tell the cook to put a little something extra in your food," she bristled.

"In that case, I'll just have a cup of coffee and some of that pie you have on the counter," Specs replied.

"Yeah. Me too," Skittery added.

"Good choice," Irish grumbled.

Skittery leaned around Specs and watched Irish as she walked away.

"What are you lookin' at?" Specs asked.

"Oh, nothin," Skittery replied without looking away.

While Irish was pouring the coffee her brother whispered, "Who are those two characters?"

"They're friends of mine, why?"

"I thought I recognized them from work."

"Who? Specs and Skittery? . . . Not a chance. They're two of the most honest guys you'll ever meet. There is no way they would be mixed up in anything illegal."

"I thought I saw them in here last week."

"You probably did. They are in here all the time. Why? Are you watching the diner for something?"

"Nah. I was working on a case in town, and I noticed them going in here is all."

"Well, like I said. They're totally nice guys. And besides, you already know them. You met them at my birthday party last year. The one with the baseball cap is Skittery Callo. You know. . . Itey's brother."

"Well, what about the other guy? Doesn't he hang around with a tall blond kid?"

"Yeah. You remember Specs and Dutchy don't you? They're always together. Well, except for the past couple of weeks. They must have had a fight or something."

"The two of them are . . . Well, together, right?"

"I'm surprised at you, Billy. I didn't think that you were the type to let something like that bother you. Being gay doesn't make them criminals."

"Come on, kid. You know me better than that. I'm just asking is all."

"Well, why all the questions?"

"It's the nature of the business, kiddo. Being a cop makes me naturally nosy. Besides, I just want to make sure that they're worthy of being friends with my baby sister."

The cook called Irish into the kitchen, and she returned with Billy's lunch order.

"Well I've gotta get goin', kiddo. The captain doesn't like cold fries. Do me a favor and don't mention to your friends that I am your brother, okay? They may be nice kids, but I'm still undercover. You never know who they might mention it to."

"Jeeze, Billy. I wasn't born yesterday. I know the drill."

"Okay, kiddo. I'll see you for dinner on Sunday."

Billy pulled his collar up around his chin, and walked out the door as Irish brought the pie and coffee to her friends. "So, what are you guys up to?" she asked.

"We were lookin' for Dutchy and my brother Email," Skittery said with an unusually wide smile.

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"Nah. They both ditched school today, and we wanted to find out why."

"They were here about an hour ago. They left with a smarmy looking guy in a leather jacket. He left me a five dollar tip for three cups of coffee."

Irish watched as Specs's face turned color, and his hands clenched into white knuckled fists.

"Okay, guys. What's going on?"

"Nothing's goin' on. We just want to find them." Skittery said.

"So then the rumors are true, aren't they?"

"What rumors?" Specs snapped.

"Come on, Specs. It's all over school that Dutchy and Email are using. I didn't think it was true, but Dutchy has gotten awfully thin and jumpy lately. They're my friends, too, you know. I'm just concerned".

"Yeah it's true," Specs replied softening his tone just a bit. "Do me a favor and give us a call if you see either of them again, okay, Irish? Especially if they're with that smarmy piece of shit they were with today."

"Sure, Specs."

"Yeah," Skittery said as he wrote his telephone number on a napkin and slid it across the table to Irish. "Here's my number. Call anytime."

"Jeeze, Skittery. I know your telephone number. I've been friends with Itey since ninth grade. I must have called your house a thousand times by now."

Irish slid the napkin back toward Skittery, but he put his hand over hers and slid the napkin back. "Keep it," he said without removing his hand.

The room felt suddenly warm as a blush covered Irish's face. "Okay - - Sure," she said as she eased her hand out from under Skittery's.

"Are you coming to my brother's party?" Skittery asked.

"Of course I am. I wouldn't miss Itey's eighteenth birthday."

"Good," Specs grinned, looking her directly in the eyes. "I'll see you then."

Irish began to feel uncomfortable under Skittery's intense gaze. It was definitely not a bad feeling of uncomfortable. She'd just forgotten how good-looking he was. She'd had a mild crush on him back when she was a sophomore, but it didn't last long. He had always treated her as one of his kid brother's friends. More like one of the guys than a girl.

"Sure, I- - I guess," she stammered as she slipped Skittery's number into her apron pocket.

The cook rang the pick up bell and called out, "Come on, Irish. You've got orders piling up. Get a move on!"

Skittery took some money from his shirt pocked and placed in into Irish's hand. "Keep the change," he said, looking her in the eyes once again.

"I've gotta go fellas," she mumbled, taking a step back. "But I'll be sure to call if I see Dutchy or Email. Bye!"

Skittery stopped before they went out the door. Again, he leaned around Specs to watch Irish walk away.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Specs grumbled.

"What the hell do you think I'm lookin' at?" Skittery grinned while wiggling his eyebrows. "Oh yeah, I forgot. You don't have the same appreciation for such things. You go for the taller and less curvy type?"

"You're gross," Specs huffed as he pushed Skittery through the door. "And besides, Irish is dating Snoddy."

"That's not what Itey told me. He said that they went out a few times but it was nothing serious. Irish told Itey that she and Snoddy are just friends."

"Oh yeah? Well, I think that someone forgot to tell Snoddy."

End Chapter 17

* * *

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated. 


	18. Hot Food and The Cold Shoulder

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. I know, I know. You all thought that I did, but you were mistaken. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

* * *

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

* * *

I am making no money from this story. (Bet that comes as a great surprise to y'all.)

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was beta'd by the amazingly talented **pennylayne**. Not only did she beta this chapter, but she finished the next one, posted a new chapter for her story "Sidekicks" (at fanfiction) and posted to her new LJ "wondertwins"(co created with friskywallabee). This was all done in less than one hour. That's why I call her the quintessential overachiever.

* * *

Chapter 18 – Hot Food and The Cold Shoulder

Tony held the door for Chris as he struggled to get his crutches through the diner's entrance.

"C'mon, Blink. Stop being so damned stubborn. Give me the crutches and let me help you."

"I don't need any help! I'm not a child!"

"Well, you're acting like one!"

"I can still kick the crap out of you! Now get out of my way!"

"Fine!" Tony snapped, though he was more hurt than angry. "I was only trying to help!"

Chris flashed an angry blue eye in his direction then shoved Tony out of the way as he hobbled past.

"Let's sit here," Tony said, stopping at the booth closest to the door.

Chris ignored him and clomped to a booth at the far end of the diner. He was tired enough to fall over, but he wouldn't give in.

Tony watched as Chris struggled to remove his jacket. He was balancing on one leg and one crutch while he held the other crutch with his chin. He tried wiggling his free arm out of the jacket, but he lost his balance and stumbled backward. Tony caught him from behind and steadied him. "C'mon, Blink," Tony whispered. "Enough already."

Chris opened his mouth to argue, but exhaustion took over and he reluctantly surrendered the crutches. "Hang on to me," Tony said, placing Chris' arm around his neck. Chris snorted in protest as he pulled his arm away, then held onto the back of the bench as Tony took his jacket.

"Stubborn!" Tony mumbled to himself, but deliberately loud enough for Chris to hear.

"Ass!" Chris grumbled as he flopped onto the seat.

Tony bit back a response and went to the counter to speak with Irish. Chris strained to hear what they were saying, but couldn't make out a word. Irish disappeared into the kitchen and returned carrying two milk crates. Chris could hear Tony say "Thanks," as he headed back to their booth.

"What the hell are you doing?" Chris snapped.

Tony didn't answer. He pulled the table out into the isle and stacked the crates one on top of the other in front of Chris. Then, after bunching up his own jacket and putting it on the crates, Tony gently lifted Chris' broken leg and set it to rest on the jacket. Without a word, Tony pushed the table back in its place and slid himself into the booth next to Chris.

Chris' anger softened at the gesture, and he had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. He didn't want to admit that he could be won over that easily, but moments like this reminded him of how much he loved Tony. It was so like him to want to protect and take care of Chris, but that was what the argument was about in the first place. Now, Chris was angry with himself for not being able to stay angry with Tony.

"Thanks!" he huffed, trying to sound like he was still annoyed.

Tony saw right through the charade and smiled. "Okay, I admit it," Tony sighed. "I'm a little overprotective, but this is your first trip out of the house since you broke your leg. I just want to make sure that nothing else happens to you. You're so tired you can hardly walk."

Chris' body tensed as Tony's words mimicked those of his mother. "Damn it, Tony. You're my boyfriend, not my mother. If I wanted to go to the mall with her, I would have asked _her_ to take me!" The pulse in Chris's jaw was visible as he glared at Tony.

"I don't know why you're so pissed," Tony grumbled.

"You know damn well why I'm pissed. You embarrassed me in front of the entire record store."

"_I_ embarrassed you? How did _I_ embarrass you? Oscar started it. You didn't expect me to let him say something like that and not do anything about it, did you?"

"You should have ignored him."

"I was only away for three weeks, Blink. That's not enough time for you to forget who I am. I wasn't about to stand by and let him call you a one-eyed one-legged freak."

"He was trying to provoke you."

"Well, it worked!"

"And everybody in the store was staring at us. It was embarrassing."

"They were staring because we're two incredibly handsome guys," Tony smirked.

"They were staring at us because you called Oscar a limp-dicked mama's boy who can't get it up without his brother watching! You could have gotten yourself hurt!"

"It wouldn't be the first time," Tony said. He was trying to laugh, but it was obvious that the day in the gym was in the back of his mind.

"Well, it would be the first time that you got yourself hurt because of _me._ You should have ignored him."

"I don't believe you. You're the one who's always shooting his mouth off at the Delanceys. You never back down. You surprised the shit out of me today."

"Well, what did you expect, Race? I can barely stand on those crutches so it's not like I could fight him. And in case you haven't noticed, I can't run either. If you and Oscar went at it, what was I supposed to do? I couldn't help you, and I couldn't stand there and do nothing."

"Okay, Blink. I'm sorry, alright?"

Chris didn't answer.

"C'mon, Blink," Tony said, taking his hand discretely under the table. "You know that I can't back down when it comes to the Delanceys, and you know why. I refuse to let them think that I'm afraid of them. I can't let them think that they've won."

"I do understand, Race. I really do, but . . ."

"But what, Blink?"

Chris opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. "Never mind," Chris mumbled. "Just promise me that you won't go looking to get yourself killed until I'm in better shape to help you out. Okay?"

"Okay," Tony said, giving Chris' hand a firm squeeze. "I promise to try and stay alive while you're recuperating. But that doesn't mean that I won't defend myself or you if I have to."

Chris wasn't satisfied with the answer, but he knew that it was the best answer he was going to get.

"Lighten up," Tony grinned as he hit Chris playfully with his shoulder. "Nobody got hurt."

"This time!" Chris huffed. "But at least we got Itey's present before Oscar showed up."

"Are you sure he's gonna like it?"

"Of curse he'll like it. Itey loves Michael Jackson. And Thriller is his favorite album. You saw him and Swifty leading everyone in the Thriller Dance that time in the gym. He's seen the video so many times that he knows every step."

"He's not the only one. I seem to remember that there was a good looking blond guy with an eye patch who was up there dancing right along with them."

"The point is that he's going to love his present. We all chipped in for the tape deck and now he has his favorite cassette to play on it."

"If you two are finished arguing, I'll take your order," Irish chuckled.

"We weren't arguing," Chris grumbled.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that shouting and calling Race an ass was a form of affection."

"Sure it is," Tony smirked. "That was foreplay for me and Blink."

"Gag me!" Irish groaned as she hit Tony on the head with her order book. "That's disgusting! People are trying to eat in here!"

"Speaking of eating," Chris said, ignoring them both. "I'll have a chili dog, onion rings and a coke."

"No," Tony glared. "He'll have a turkey sandwich and a glass of milk."

"Are you starting again?" Chris fumed. "What are you? My mother?"

"No, but I have to answer to your mother. She warned me not to let you eat any junk food. Her exact words were, 'And I'd better not find out that you made him eat the usual garbage you get him. He needs healthy food so he can heal properly.' If your mom smells chili dog and onion rings on your breath, it'll be my ass in a sling, not yours!"

"It doesn't sound like Blink's mother likes you much," Irish laughed.

"That's an understatement," Tony grumbled. "But it's understandable. After all, I did turn her normal All-American son into a sissy-boy."

Chris snorted a chuckle when Tony grabbed his thigh under the table.

"What are you laughing at, homo?" Tony smirked.

"Nothing, fruitcake ," Chris laughed, placing his hand over Tony's.

The calm atmosphere in the diner ended when the bell atop the entrance door rang.

Half of Pulitzer's basketball team, most of the cheerleaders, and a few sports groupies barreled in. They immediately filled the counter and most of the tables and booths.

Irish looked at the only other waitress and groaned as shouts of "Let's have some menus over here!" and "Who do I have to screw to get some service!" filled the room.

"Hi, Irish," Sarah Jacobs said as she squeezed up to the counter between Swifty and her boyfriend, Pete Scolari. "It's too bad you had to work this morning. You should have seen your boyfriend in action. You would have been proud." Then Sarah turned to her boyfriend and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "You were great, too, Pie sweetie."

"My boyfriend?" Irish asked. "What boyfriend?"

"Earth to Irish," Sarah laughed as she rolled her eyes. "I'm talking about your boyfriend, Snoddy."

"You really should have been there," Pie interrupted. "That boyfriend of yours was fantastic. He looked like a pro out on that court today. Between him and Jack Kelly the rest of us coulda stayed home."

"Hey babe," Snoddy said, coming behind Irish and sliding his hands around her waist.

"Excuse me?" Irish replied, sliding out of his grip.

"What's the matter, babe? You havin' a bad day or something?"

"C'mere," Irish said as she grabbed Snoddy by the front of his shirt and pulled him into the employee's locker room. "What's all this 'babe' business, and since when am I your girlfriend?"

"Since we started dating after the fall dance," Snoddy replied, looking totally confused.

"Jeeze, Snoddy. We've had three dates, and only one of them was an actual date. The other times we went with the rest of the guys to the movies. That hardly constitutes me being your girlfriend!"

"Ah, c'mon, babe. Don't be like that."

"Be like what? And don't call me 'babe!'"

"I figured that since we made out after the dance, and started dating, that you and I are a couple."

"That jock strap of yours must be too tight, because it's cutting off the circulation to your brain! We kissed a couple of times, but then you started grabbing at my sweater and I told you to take me home."

"Yeah!" Snoddy said through an enormous grin. "Most of the girls I go out with wanna screw around on the first date, but you were different. I like when a girl plays hard to get."

"I'm not playing anything, and I'm not hard to get, I'm impossible to get. I told you on our one and only date that I don't like you that way. I told you that we've been friends too long and I can't think of you like a boyfriend."

"Yeah, but I thought - -"

"No, Snoddy. You didn't think, and you didn't listen. You're one of my best friends, and I could never think of you as a boyfriend. It just isn't gonna happen."

"Well, what about Itey's party? Aren't we going together like we planned?"

"We didn't plan anything. We're both going to Itey's party along with everyone else."

"Can I at least pick you up?"

"Jesus, Snoddy. I live across the street from Itey. I don't need a ride. I only need to walk across the lawn!"

"Okay, then. I'll meet you at the party."

"No, Snoddy. We'll see each other at the party, but I'm sort of meeting someone else."

"What the hell! Who?"

"Itey's brother, Skittery."

"You've got a date with Skittery Callo? He - - He's too old for you. He's in college, for shit's sake!"

"He's only two years older than me. And it's not a date. I just agreed to meet him there is all."

"Skittery Callo? - - Son of a bitch!" Snoddy shouted, then turned and stormed through the diner.

"Looks like it's gonna be an interesting night," Tony said as they watched Snoddy kick the front door open.

End Chapter 18

* * *

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated. 


	19. An Orgy Looking to Happen

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

I am making no money from this story. (Bet that comes as a great surprise to y'all.)

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Language.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was beta'd by the fun and fabulous pennylanye. Even though she is busy with her own writing and her work as co-creator of the "wondertwins" LJ, she still found the time to help me out. 

A/N: I want to thank those who have stuck with me throughout this story. Last fall's unavoidable three month delay did cost me some readers, but you didn't give up on me.

My new beta and renewed energy have me back on track.

Thanks to all for your support.

* * *

Chapter 19 – An Orgy Looking to Happen 

"I'm not kidding," Mush said, taking a swallow of Spot's Irish whiskey. "I had no intention of going to Itey's eighteenth birthday party. I tried everything I could think of to convince my mom to let me stay home, but she had other ideas. She literally dragged me kicking and screaming all the way from our house to Itey's. When we got to the corner it suddenly dawned on me that I was about five inches taller than Mom, and had about thirty pounds on her. That's when I made the big mistake."

"What'd you do?" Itey asked, taking the bottle from Mush.

"I did what any mature young man would do in my situation. I acted like an ass! I dug my feet into the ground and threw my arms around the light pole in front of the house. Then I declared that I was the man in our family, and that Mom had no right to treat me like a kid."

"Were you trying to get yourself killed?" Dutchy laughed. "Nobody speaks to Kate Meyers like that. I worked a few cases with your mom, and I've seen her make grown men cry!"

"You're not kidding," Mush replied. "Before I could say another word, she reached up and grabbed a handful of my hair, and didn't let go until we got to the front door. Needless to say, that was the last time I ever tried to tell her I was the man of the family!"

Everyone except Chris was laughing. . The others hadn't noticed Tony slip away during Mush's story. Now Tony was standing where Chris found him that afternoon. Tony's back was towards the others, and he was standing in the place where they'd shared their first kiss. Chris stood to go and join him, but was stopped by a hand on his arm. "Wait a minute," Spot said, as he poured some whiskey into a paper cup. "This might help loosen him up."

Chris looked at the cup than back at Tony. "I hope so," he sighed.

"Well, if that doesn't work, give him that goofy grin of yours. I never understood how lookin' at you with that big bunch of teeth could make him happy, but it always did."

"Thanks, Spot."

"Don't mention it," Spot replied with a wink.

"Hey, babe," Chris said as he placed a hand on Tony's shoulder.

Tony jumped and gasped in a breath. "Jesus, Chris. Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?"

"C'mon, Tony. Will you relax? Skittery feels real bad about what happened. It was just a joke that got out of hand. Nobody got hurt."

"I know it was a joke, Chris. And I'm not angry with Skittery . . . Even though it was an _asinine_ thing for him to do. But what if it hadn't been Skittery? We've all been laughing and having a good time, but think about what brought us here. We could be pissing off the wrong people. That really could have been someone with a gun. Someone who doesn't want us to find out what's going on around here, and then what would have happened?"

"C'mon, Tony. This isn't you talking. You're not the type to go around worrying about what might happen. You face life head-on, and damn anyone who gets in your way. That's one of the things that made me fall in love with you."

Tony turned back and stared at the wall. "You know what I've been standing here thinking about?"

"Our first kiss?"

"Well, sort of, but not really. I was thinking that this is where it all started. I met you here at Pulitzer, and I fell for you the minute I saw you. This spot, right here, is where we had our first kiss. And this is where we both said 'I love you,' for the first time. We even made love for the first time back there in that locker room. Everything for you and me started here. And tonight, with you lying on the floor with that nut-job at the door, I realized that it all could end here. It could all have been over in a matter of seconds. I don't know what I'd do without you, Chris. I don't think I'd survive without you."

"Well, nothing happened. And you're not going to get rid of me that easily. I plan on sticking around until long after that thick black hair of yours turns gray."

"Oh yeah? Well, that may not take too long," Tony said running his fingers through his hair. "After that scare tonight, I think that my hair will be snow white by my next haircut."

"That wasn't the hair that I was referring to," Chris grinned as he pulled out the waist of Tony's sweat pants and peeked down the front.

"You're such a perv," Tony laughed, slapping Chris' hand away.

"And that's one of the things that you love about me." Chris smiled.

"One of the many," Tony said, pulling Chris into a tight embrace.

"Shit!" Chris spat when he felt the whiskey trickle down his arm. "You'd better drink this while there is still some in the cup."

"What is it?"

"Irish whiskey, courtesy of Spot Conlon. He said that I should give you this, and if it didn't make you feel better then I should give you my goofy grin."

"That grin isn't goofy," Tony smiled as he pulled Chris closer. "That smile is the reason I get up every morning."

"You mean, that's the reason that you get _it_ up every morning, right?"

"You really are a perv," Tony laughed.

"Lucky you! Now drink that stuff and come back by the guys so you can finish that story about Itey's party."

* * *

Chris leaned against the wall in the Higgins' kitchen to keep his balance. He had his crutch under one arm and was holding the telephone in the other. 

"Yes, Mom," he said, rolling his eyes at Tony. "Yes, Mom, I'll be careful. . . . Yes, Mom. If I don't feel well I'll have Race bring me home right away. . . . We've been over this a dozen times, Mom. . . . All of the guys are going to be there. I'm not going to be the only one that has to come home right after the party. It isn't fair! . . . Please Mom, don't embarrass me. . . . Okay, okay, Mom. . . . Hey, Mrs. H.! My mom wants to talk to you!"

Chris put his hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone before he handed the receiver to Mrs. Higgins. "My mom isn't crazy about all us guys sleeping at Itey's after the party. She's afraid that it might turn into an orgy or something. I can't make her understand that there is nothing Race and I can do at Itey's that we can't do anyplace else."

Tony looked up from his magazine and grinned. "There's nothing that we can do at Itey's that we haven't already done on your mom's living room couch," Tony chuckled.

"Shut up, Race!" Chris hissed. "You're not helping!"

As his mother reached for the telephone, Tony whispered, "Hey, Mom. Tell her that Blink will be safe as long as the other guys are around. Tell her he'll be fine as long as I don't get him alone."

"Hush, Tony," Mrs. Higgins said, taking the receiver from Chris. "Hello, Mrs. Hunter. What can I do for you? . . . . Yes, there will quite a few boys staying at the Callos' after the party. . . . Who? . . .Let's see. There will be Christopher and Anthony, of course. Then Jack Kelly, Sean Conlon, David Jacobs..."

"Now there's an orgy looking to happen," Tony chuckled.

Mrs. Higgins glared at her son as she continued with the list. "Adam Schuyler and Daniel Bergman are invited . . . . Yes, that's right. Dutchy and Specs."

"Oh, yeah," Tony laughed. "Now it's definitely an orgy looking to happen."

"Be quiet, Anthony!" Mrs. Higgins warned, holding her hand over the receiver. "Then there's Snoddy Morrison, Pie Eater Scolari and Swifty Steaken - -"

"That's good, Mom. Throw in a few straight guys to throw her off the track!"

"One more word out of you and you won't be going to the party," Mrs. Higgins warned. "Well, I'm not sure, Mrs. Hunter. I suppose the boy got the nickname because he likes to eat pie."

Chris let out a mournful groan and dropped his head onto the table. "My mom isn't going to be happy until she drives me completely crazy." Chris' last two words were punctuated by hitting his head against the table.

"Stop that, Christopher," Mrs. Higgins said, thumping him on the back of the head. "You are going to make yourself dopey if you keep doing that."

"Too late," Tony chuckled.

"Then there will be Itey, of course, and three of the older Callo boys, Skittery, Emilio, and Paulo . . . No, Mrs. Hunter. Itey and Skittery are not Italian names. They're nicknames."

"Yeah. Roughly translated, Itey means little creep who can't keep his hands off my sister," Tony huffed.

Mrs. Higgins had had enough of Tony's smart remarks. She removed her bedroom slipper and tossed it at her son. Chris burst out laughing when the slipper bounced off the side of Tony's head.

"The party will be well chaperoned by Itey's parents and grandparents . . . . Yes, Mrs. Hunter, I will definitely keep an eye on the boys. . . . Goodbye."

"That was a great shot you made with that slipper, Mrs. H." Chris laughed.

"There hasn't been an Italian mother yet who couldn't zero in on one of her children with a bedroom slipper. Now, the two of you better be ready to go in five minutes or I'm leaving without you."

Tony helped Chris on with his jacket, and when his mother wasn't looking he slipped a bottle of Irish whiskey into the pocket.

"Why do _I_ have to be the one to sneak it out of the house? This was _your_ big idea," Chris grumbled.

"My mom will see it if I try to hide it in my short jacket. You've got enough pockets in yours that you could take a two week vacation without any luggage. Just don't clink those crutches against the bottle, and Mom will never know."

"You're a bad influence on me, Race," Chris smiled. "First you steal my virtue, and now you want to turn me into a smuggler."

"I stole your virtue?" Tony laughed. "Jeeze, Blink. It's not like you're a princess and I climbed a tower to have my way with you. You are a lot of things, but virtuous was never one of them!"

"Remind me why I love you," Chris said, with mock indignation.

"I'll refresh your memory later on tonight," Tony whispered as he brushed his lips against Chris'.

"You know, Race. My memory isn't what it used to be. You may have to remind me twice to make sure that I don't forget."

Tony moaned as he nipped at Chris' bottom lip. "I love it when you're a man-slut."

"Knock it off, you two," Mrs. Higgins said as she walked through the kitchen to the front door. "If you two aren't out this door in three seconds, you won't be going to the party! I'm going to make you stay right here. . . And you will be staying in separate rooms!"

* * *

"That was one hell of a party, little brother," Skittery said. "I don't think any of us will ever forget that night." 

"That was the night that you stole Irish from Snoddy, wasn't it?" Mush asked.

"I didn't steal anything. Irish was never Snoddy's girlfriend. That was just wishful thinking on his part."

"What ever happened to Irish?" Mush asked. "You too were pretty serious for a while, weren't you?"

The room fell silent as all eyes glared at Mush.

"What? What did I say?" Mush asked.

End – Chapter 19

* * *

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated. 


	20. Itey's Party Part One

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

* * *

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

* * *

I am making no money from this story. (Bet that comes as a great surprise to y'all.)

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Adult Language.

* * *

**A/N:** I bet you didn't expect me to update so soon. 

Super beta, pennylayne has me moving right along. She is amazing! Her outstanding writing can be viewed here at fanfiction, The Refuge, and the wondertwins LJ.

* * *

Chapter 20 – Itey's Party- Part One 

"What the hell did I say?" Mush asked.

"Nothin', Mush," Skittery assured him. "Don't pay any attention to these morons, because you didn't say anything wrong. Things just didn't work out between Irish and me is all. . . . Damn, I'm hungry. I haven't eaten since I left L.A. So where are you hiding the food, little brother?"

"The sandwiches are in the blue-and-white cooler on the left. The beer is in the white one," Itey replied.

"What the hell is going on?" Mush asked when Skittery was out of earshot.

"It's a mystery," Spot said. "Skitts and Irish seemed like the perfect couple. Everybody figured that they'd eventually get married, but one day they just split. I think that Skittery broke it off, but nobody really knows because he's always refused to talk about it. He was pretty fucked up for a while after it happened. He drank a lot and screwed anything that moved. He almost lost his scholarship because he was spending more time partying than studying. Eventually he got his head back on straight, but he never talked about her again."

"Why didn't somebody warn me? I feel like shit!"

"Don't worry about it, Mushie," Itey said. "It's been almost fifteen years already. It's about time somebody talked about it."

"Itey's right," Dutchy added. "We've been exorcising a lot of demons here tonight, and maybe it's time for Skittery to get an emotional kick in the ass."

"Are you going to analyze him right here, in front of everyone?" Mush asked.

"I'm not going to do anything. I'm off the clock, remember? Just talk about what you want to talk about. If Skitts doesn't like where this is going, he'll let us know. Let _him_ set the boundaries, and stop treating him like a child."

"So what did I miss?" Skittery asked through a mouthful of sandwich.

"Not much," Specs answered. "But I'm sure Race will tell us another story about how he and Blink have had the best sex any humans have had throughout the history of mankind."

"You're all jealous," Tony laughed.

"Ya know, it's been my experience that the people who talk about having sex the most do it the least." Skittery grinned.

"Not in their case," Jack grumbled. "Itey will need to have this place steam cleaned after they leave. There hasn't been a safe place to sit since they got here."

"Damn, Jack!" Skittery groaned. "That's disgusting! I'm trying to eat here!"

"Disgusting, but true," David added.

"Race can't help himself," Spot said. "It's in his genetic makeup. When you mix two passionate nationalities like Irish and Italian it's a fifty-fifty shot as to what you end up with. Either you get someone beautiful, sweet, and selfless like Reggie, or you get a five-foot-three-inch bag of testosterone with a temper."

"That's my kind of mix," Chris said, leaning back against Tony.

"Irish and Italian is one hell of a mix," Skittery mused. He paused for a little while before speaking again. "Ya know, I still remember how Irish looked the night of Itey's party. It was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen."

* * *

It looked as though everyone in town was at Itey's party. The Callo family was a crowd all by themselves, but when added in the neighbors and Itey's friends, the house was bulging at the seams. 

Specs and Dutchy, however, were not there. Specs had called Itey earlier in the day to say that they'd try and be there, but he didn't think that Dutchy would feel up to it. Itey knew that meant Dutchy was either out looking to score, or he had already gotten his hands on some coke. It was the same with Email. You couldn't trust him out of your sight, and you couldn't keep an eye on him twenty-four hours a day.

Specs and Dutchy had been spending less and less time with their friends as Dutchy's drug habit became worse. Now, more than ever, Specs felt that he couldn't leave Dutchy alone. He knew that the minute he turned his back, Dutchy would be off to score from Pete or anyone else who would sell to him. Specs was tired and on edge, and his grades had fallen off miserably. Still, he didn't regret one minute of the time he spent with Dutchy.

Itey sympathized with Specs and understood what he was going through. Itey was worried about his brother, but at least for today, Email wasn't high. He was miserable and obnoxious just like he'd been since he started using, but he definitely wasn't high. Itey missed the old Email. He missed the brother that was the most like him.

Tony was grateful that the Callos had an entrance to the family room through the garage. Getting Chris and his broken leg down the narrow flight of winding stairs would have been a nightmare. Tony secured them a nice spot against the wall between a closet and the stairs. This seemed to be the only place where they could still see everything and not have Chris's cast getting in everyone's way. The large toy chest that sat against the wall was a perfect place for both boys to sit comfortably, and there was room behind the chest to hide Tony's bottle of whiskey.

Irish was talking to Jack and David when Skittery arrived. It had been two years since he graduated, and his entrance was causing quite a commotion. Skittery was no longer the skinny boy they all remembered. The athletic training he was receiving at college had helped him to fill out nicely. The eyes of every girl in the room were on him as he descended the stairs.

Pie Eater bristled when his girlfriend Sarah gaped at the sight. "Close your mouth, babe," he grumbled. "You're starting to drool."

After the handshakes and back slaps from his former teammates, Skittery made his way across the room to Irish. "Hey, guys," he said without looking at Jack or David. His eyes were fixed on Irish's as he squeezed between her and Jack.

"Nice to see you too, Skitts," Jack chuckled as he was nudged out of the way.

"What happened to you?" David asked pointing out the fresh bruise under Skittery's left eye.

"I slipped in the shower, Mouth!"

"It must be an epidemic," Jack laughed, pointing at Snoddy. "That's the same thing that Snoddy told me when I asked about his black eye."

"Don't you have someplace else to be?" Skittery growled as he glared at Jack.

"Don't get your shorts twisted, Callo. We can take a hint." Jack threw his arm around David's shoulder and whispered in his ear. Both boys roared with laughter as they strolled away.

"You look fantastic tonight," Skittery said. "You don't look anything like the kid I remember hanging around the house with my brother and his friends."

"It's still me." Irish smiled.

"It may be the same you on the inside, but your outside is a whole new package. . . . And it's a damn good-looking package at that."

"Thanks," Irish replied, subconsciously straightening the folds in her dress.

Snoddy was watching intently as Irish and Skittery became reacquainted. He studied their body language and facial expressions, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't make out what they were saying. Every now and again, Irish would look away from Skittery to glance at Snoddy. She could feel him watching her every move.

"Is everything okay, Irish?" Skittery asked.

"Sure. Why do you ask?"

"Then I must be boring you or something, because whenever I speak, you look everywhere but at me. Are you looking for someone to rescue you?"

"You are _not_ boring me, and I don't need anyone to rescue me."

"Well, do I need a breath mint or something?"

"Of course not," Irish said, glancing away from him as she spoke.

This time Skittery followed her gaze and saw Snoddy sitting across the room watching them. "Oh. . . . Look Irish, if I'm bothering you, just tell me. I don't want to cause trouble between you and him."

"There _isn't_ any me and him, and there never was!"

"Well, Snoddy doesn't share your opinion," Skittery said as he reached up and touched his black eye.

"That's because Snoddy is delusional! I didn't find out that I was supposed to be his girlfriend until today when Sarah Jacobs told me. When I asked him about it, Snoddy said that he didn't think I was serious when I said that we'd been friends too long for me to think of him as anything more. He thought I was just playing hard to get! I'm real sorry about your eye."

Skittery shook his head and chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Irish bristled.

"I'd forgotten what it was like to be in high school. Everything is a major tragedy. It makes me glad that I'm out of there and away from all that drama."

"Well, excuse me, Mr. All-American college man," Irish huffed. "I suppose I should feel grateful that you came down from Mount Olympus so you could muck about in the dust with a lowly peasant like myself. And I'm sorry that our childish problems aren't mature and exciting enough for a worldly man like yourself. Now, if you will excuse me, I see several of the great unwashed that I would much rather be with than you!"

"Wait a minute," Skittery said, taking hold of Irish's arm. "I didn't mean it that way. What I meant to say was that back in high school you know everybody's business and they know yours. You're with the same people that you've grown up with, and you see them day after day. In college things are different. You can go days without running into anyone who even knows who you are. I definitely don't miss having everyone know my personal business, but I do miss my old friends. . . . And I miss some of my brother's friends too," Skittery said as he ran his hand down the length of Irish's arm.

Irish blushed when she felt a tingle radiating from the path of Skittery's hand. "That's a nice shade of red," Skittery teased as he lifted her chin with his hand. "It looks good on you."

"Does that line work on everybody?" Irish asked skeptically.

"You tell me." Skittery grinned as he traced her jaw line with his thumb. "It's the first time I'm using it."

Irish cleared her throat and looked down at her shoes. She was sure that her face was crimson, judging by the amount of heat radiating from her body. There was a long moment of silence until Skittery asked, "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Sure," Irish replied, being relieved that he'd broken the silence.

"I'll be right back. Don't disappear on me."

"I'll be here when you get back."

Skittery went and got two sodas and stopped by Tony to get a shot of whiskey in each. When he returned he found Irish in the same place he'd left her, but she and Snoddy were staring each other down. "Hold these," he ordered, handing her both cups. Then Skittery took her by the shoulders and turned her so that her back was facing Snoddy. "That's better," he said, taking his cup from Irish and giving Snoddy a warning glare.

Mush was sitting in the corner of the room, glancing at his wristwatch and glaring at just about everyone who passed. Spot had made several attempts to talk with him, but was greeted with extreme hostility. Mush made it clear that his mother dragged him there against his will. He told Spot, "The last place I want to be is here with you bastards and have to look at your ugly face! I hate you, Conlon, and you'd better keep the fuck away from me if you know what's good for you!"

Spot's life had never been easy, and his early years with his mother and father were an absolute hell. Mr. Higgins always said it was a miracle that Spot survived and became the strong and caring person that he was. Now, Spot wished for the numbness that he felt before coming to live with Jack and his mother. He longed for the wall that he'd so carefully built around himself. Spot could take a beating from the best of them and give back the same, but this was different. Mush's words hurt more than any of the beatings his father had given him. It felt as though Mush had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart. Spot felt like he would die from the pain, but the worst part was knowing that he wouldn't.

Mush sank back into his chair and stared at his watch, waiting for the party to be over. Spot retreated to the opposite corner and stared at Mush while waiting for the pain to eat him alive.

Reggie glanced at her brother every now and again, expecting him to pounce on Itey for dancing too close or for holding her hand, but for some reason Tony wasn't bothering them. She didn't know why he was keeping his distance, but she was extremely grateful.

What Reggie didn't know was that Chris had convinced Tony to leave them alone while they were at the party. He reminded Tony that Itey was the only person who really made Reggie happy since their father's death. Tony agreed that he could keep from killing Itey for one night. He wasn't sure how Chris had convinced him, but he was now sure that Chris was going to make a kick-ass attorney.

Though Tony had agreed to keep his distance from Itey and Reggie, he kept a watchful eye as he sat with his arm around Chris. Each time that Itey moved too close or innocently touched Reggie, Chris could feel his body tense. Tony kept his temper in check until he saw Itey put his arm around Reggie and whisper something into her ear. Reggie smiled up at him and then nuzzled her face against his chest.

"That's it!" Tony growled as he slammed his Pepsi and whiskey down on the bench. "Do you see what that little shit is doing?!"

"Race, he's only got his arm around her," Chris reassured him. "His hands are in plain sight, and they are nowhere near anything important."

"Let's see him try and grope her after I pull his arms out of their sockets!"

Before Tony could stand, Chris pulled himself up and quickly sat on Tony's lap.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tony growled.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Chris purred as he nibbled on Tony's neck.

"I think that you're trying to keep me from getting to Itey!"

"You're only half right," Chris whispered as he traced the outline of Tony's ear with his tongue then slowly moved his mouth moved toward that special spot on Tony's neck.

"Um . . . What?" Tony stammered as he relaxed into Chris' touch.

"Well, I sat on your lap to keep you from getting to Itey," Chris said as he nibbled his way down the taught muscles of Tony's neck. "Then, it felt so good when I got here, I figured, why waste the moment?"

The feel of Chris' warm breath against his skin sent a shiver throughout Tony's body. He was grateful for the cover provided by the loud music when a deep moan escaped his throat.

"Face it, Race. It's been more than a month since we've been alone together. How long do you expect a guy to wait?"

"You're such a slut." Tony grinned.

"And don't pretend that you don't love every bit of it."

Tony looked at Chris' smile and forgot all about Itey and Reggie. "God, I've missed you," Tony breathed as he relaxed into the scent and feel of Chris.

Chris' mouth felt warm and familiar and better than Tony had remembered. It seemed like an eternity since they'd been together. It felt more like four months than four weeks. Now at Itey's party with Chris close against him, the strain and heartbreak of the past month faded as he let himself be carried away.

The Pepsi and whiskey, along with being out of Snoddy's line of sight, helped Irish to relax considerably. She was amazed at how much she and Skittery found to talk about. Skittery was surprised at how easy their conversation flowed once Irish stopped looking over his shoulder at Snoddy. They were getting to know each other as Irish and Skittery, rather than Itey's friend and his older brother.

"I read about you in the papers," Irish said. "I loved the picture of you sinking the ball in the last seconds of the game against Cornwall. That was a great headline, too: _Callo Crushes Comets in a 64 to 61 Victory_."

"Oh, please!" Snoddy grumbled from behind. He had moved from his place on the couch and was sitting on a nearby barstool. "Cornwall is the worst team in the division. I wouldn't call beating them by three points a miraculous victory."

"Steven Morrison!" Irish shouted. "If you don't get away from us right now, I'm gonna make you sorry that you ever woke up this mornin'!"

Skittery quickly moved in-between Irish and Snoddy. "Look, Morrison," he said, trying not to cause too much of a commotion. "I warned you about starting any trouble tonight."

"Excuse me!" Irish snapped. "I don't need you to go fighting my battles for me!"

"That's enough!" Skittery shouted. "Take this!" he said, shoving the drink back into Irish's hand. Then he picked up his own cup and took her by the arm and pulled her across the room. Irish's jaw hung open as Skittery opened the door to the utility room and firmly nudged her inside then closed the door behind them.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing, Skittery Callo? I can take care of myself you know! And if getting me alone in a mucky basement was the reason you asked me to meet you here then you're away in the head! Don't think that just because you are a big-shot college man that I'm gonna stay in here and mess around with you!"

"You think pretty highly of yourself, don't you?" Skittery laughed. "What makes you think that I brought you in here because I can't keep my hands off of you? Did it ever occur to you that I might want to keep you and Snoddy from having a fight and ruining my brother's birthday party?"

Irish opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"Why, Irish Callan," Skittery smirked. "I've never seen _you_ at a loss for words."

"Get out of my way you - - you braying ass!" Irish ordered as she tried to push Skittery aside. "I'm not about to be laughed at or treated like a common boot by you or anyone!"

"Calm down." Skittery grinned, leaning his weight against the door. "I'm only teasing you. You've got quite a temper, haven't you? And you've got quite a mouth on you, too."

"Excuse me if I'm not syrupy sweet like those phony little sorority girls you run around with at college. I'm not about to go pretendin' to be something I'm not for the likes of you!"

"I'm not complaining, Irish, I like it! It's nice to see a girl who stands up for herself. And did you know that your accent gets thicker when you get angry?"

"I think I've heard that once or twice," Irish replied, raising her jaw in defiance.

"I like that, too." Skittery smiled. "It's kinda hot! Now will you just relax and be yourself again? I brought you in here so we could talk and I could get to know you without having to share your attention with Snoddy."

"I suppose that I can give it a try," Irish replied cautiously.

"Good!" Skittery said, taking her hand again. "There's really no place to sit in here so we'll have to make due." He stopped in front if the clothes dryer and put his hands on her waist. "Up you go," he said, lifting her onto the appliance. He handed Irish her drink and hopped onto the washing machine next to her. "So tell me," Skittery said, giving Irish his most charming smile. "What is it you like to do when you're not threatening to beat the snot out of love-struck morons?"

* * *

"Snoddy was furious," David said. "He spent the next hour pacing back and forth in front of that door. I thought he was going to wear a hole in the carpet." 

"Well, I thought he was going to kick the door in and beat the piss out of you!" Jack added.

"He could have tried," Skittery boasted. "But I would have given him a run for his money. I always believe in fighting for what you want. . . . Well, that's what I used to believe, anyway," he finished in a half-whisper.

Skittery got up from the bench and walked over to the beer cooler. He took one out and opened it, then wandered into the locker room.

"Well, babe," Specs whispered to Dutchy, "after all those years of Skitts supporting me, I think it's my turn to be the best friend."

Dutchy smiled and gave Specs a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he said. Specs returned the kiss, and then went to join Skittery in the locker room.

End Chapter 20

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.


	21. Gentlemen’s Agreement

I do not own Newsies. Disney owns Newsies. Disney owns almost everything.

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

I am making no money from this story, so my chances of purchasing any of the above are slim to none.

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Adult Language.

* * *

Beta credit for this chapter goes to the fantabulous pennylayne. She graciously took the time from her own writing and from her work with Frisky Wallabee at The Wonder Twins LJ.

* * *

A/N:

My original idea was to split the party into two parts. When I realized that Race and Blink hadn't had any private time in a while, I decided to give them their moment. The party, and Skittery and Irish, will continue in the next chapter.

And don't worry. The next chapter is already written and ready to post, so you won't have to wait too long.

* * *

Chapter 21 – Gentlemen's Agreement

Skittery sat in the locker room staring blindly ahead.

"What are you doing?" Specs asked. "It looks like you're trying to open that locker by mental telepathy."

"Nah, just thinkin'," Skittery said as he opened the door to take a look inside. "Locker number 149. This one was mine senior year. I had my entire life ahead of me the last time I was here. It seems like it was only yesterday and not seventeen years ago. God, so much has changed since then."

"It sure has. Back then you were a skinny kid who did nothing but play basketball and chase skirts. Then you earned yourself a college scholarship, became a star player on your school's basketball team, and got your degree. You went on to play a few years in the pros, and now you're a sports commentator on national television. I'd say that things have worked out pretty well for you."

Skittery merely shrugged and closed the locker.

"Okay, there's obviously something eating at you, so stop jerkin' around and spit it out."

"Nothing's bothering me. I just wanted to take a look around, is all."

"Cut the crap, Skitts. You and I have been through a lot together and it's a bit late for us to start playing games. You're thinking about Irish, aren't you?"

Skittery thought about saying no, but didn't. Specs would know that he was lying. "Some," he replied.

"Are you ever gonna tell me what happened between the two of you?"

"Nope. That's between me and her. It's nobody's business but ours."

"Okay, if that's the way you feel, then I won't push the matter. But I don't understand how the two of you could be the perfect couple one day and hate each other the next."

"I don't hate Irish. We just didn't want the same things out of life. I never hated her." Skittery's voice faded off as he stared into nothingness. Whatever he was thinking had him far away from that room. After several long moments, Skittery shook his head and looked back at Specs. "We made a great couple, didn't we?"

"We sure did, sweetheart," Specs said, blowing Skittery a kiss.

"Don't make me sick, asshole," Skittery smiled. "And don't ever do that to me again. I'll be lucky if I don't have nightmares now! You know damned well that I was talking about Irish and me. We were fantastic together."

"Sure, for a couple of flaming heterosexuals. But if you ask my opinion, I think that Dutchy and I make a much cuter couple.

"In your dreams, Bergman. Irish and I were amazing together. Damn, she was beautiful, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, she was," Specs said, snatching the beer from Skittery and taking a large swallow. "She was pretty enough that nobody even noticed how ugly you are."

"Screw you," Skittery laughed. "And she was feisty, too. We argued two or three times that first night alone. It was great."

Specs threw an arm around Skittery's shoulder as they headed back into the gym. "If you want to know the truth, Skitts, I've always thought it was a little strange that the two of you got off on arguing."

"We didn't _get off_ on arguing. We simply enjoyed a healthy exchange of ideas and opinions. And there is nothing more exciting than a beautiful and strong-minded woman. That's the best way to get my blood boiling."

"You do know that's a bit strange, don't you, Skitts?"

"Yeah," Skittery laughed as they approached the others. "But look at this bunch of freaks we call friends. I fit in well, don't I?"

"Who are you callin' a freak, Callo?" Spot smirked.

"Face it Spot," Specs said, tossing him the empty bottle. "We are a unique group, to say the least."

"Did the two of you make out alright in there?" Dutchy asked.

"Nah. Skitts wanted to make-out with me, but I wouldn't let him. I told him that you're the only man for me."

"Damn, you're disgusting!" Skittery laughed. "We were talking about Itey's birthday party."

"I'll never forget that night," Chris said, leaning back against Tony.

"I'm surprised that you remember anything about the party," Itey griped. "You and Race weren't there for most of it."

* * *

Tony loved to run his fingers through Chris's hair. It was what he wanted to do the very first day they met. It was something he thought about doing every day back when they were still just friends. And it was one of the many things he missed about Chris while he, his mother, and Reggie were away. 

For Tony, the days moved slowly at his aunt's home, and the nights were almost unbearable. He would lie on the cot in his cousins' room listening to them breathe while the clock on the nightstand checked off the minutes. Some nights he could fall asleep by counting the monotonous ticks of the old clock, but other nights were not so easy. Often his thoughts of Chris were emotionally and physically overwhelming. On those nights, Tony would need to sneak away to the bathroom and relieve himself of these feelings.

Now, at Itey's party, everyone and everything except Chris seemed to fade away. Tony wove his fingers through the straight blond hair as his tongue traced the familiar textures of Chris's mouth. Tony smiled against the kiss when his fingers found the single patch of hair that curled on the nape of his boyfriend's neck.

Tony felt a pang of guilt when he silently and selfishly wished that Chris's leg wasn't broken. The plaster cast that started at his foot and ran almost the entire length to his hip was like an obstacle keeping them apart. As Tony's excitement grew, so did his frustration. He wanted to pull their bodies close and feel Chris's growing excitement against his own. As much as he wanted Chris, it was hard to stay focused while trying to find a position where they were both comfortable.

"This sucks!" Chris snapped as he pulled away from Tony.

"Whadda you mean, this sucks?" Tony asked defensively.

"This!" Chris growled looking at his leg. "We can't make-out with this thing hanging off of me. It's like a plaster chastity belt!"

"It's not that bad," Tony said, trying to convince himself as much as Chris.

"That's easy for you to say. You haven't been dragging this thing around for three weeks."

"I know, Blink, but- -"

"No, you don't know. You have no idea what it was like for me while you were away. I couldn't sleep at night thinking about you. I thought I was gonna explode! Damn it, Race. It's been a freakin' month since we were together, and now I can't even get close to you with this thing between us."

Tony smiled at the frustration on his boyfriend's face. He'd been so wrapped up in his own feelings that he never realized how much Chris would miss him.

"C'mon," Tony said, tossing Chris his coat. "We're getting out of here."

"What do you mean, getting out of here? Where are we going?

"We're going to my house."

"We can't leave Itey's party, and besides, your mom will kill us if she catches us. Have you forgotten that my mom made her promise that we wouldn't be alone together?"

"Don't worry about it, Blink. She isn't gonna catch us. We'll come back to the party, but I want us to be alone for a while."

"Are you willing to risk getting grounded just so we can make-out alone?"

"Making out was not what I had in mind. Now, put on your coat and stop asking questions!"

Tony made his way through the crowd and pulled Reggie aside. "I want you to cover for me," Tony said as he put on his jacket.

"What do you mean, cover for you? Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm just going back to our house. I want to be alone with Blink for a while."

"You can't leave! Itey held off celebrating his birthday until we got back. He refused to have this party without us being here."

"Itey refused to have his party without _you_ being here. He won't care if Blink and I duck out for a while."

"You listen to me, Anthony Michael Higgins. I'm sick and tired of the way you treat Itey. And if you think that I'm gonna let you - -"

"It's okay, Reg," Itey said as he came from behind and put a hand on her shoulder. "Let him go. I don't mind."

"No, it's not okay! You were nice enough to wait until we came home to have this party. The least _he_ can do is to hold off groping Blink for one night!"

"Race is right, Reg. You're the reason that I put off having this party. If he and Blink want to go and do _whatever_ to each other, I don't care. It's better than seeing them try and climb each other on my old toy box."

Reggie looked from Itey's face to Tony's and back again. "Alright, I'll do it!" she snapped. "But only because Itey asked me to."

"Thanks, Reg. Thanks, Itey," Tony said. Then he grabbed Chris's crutches and they both snuck out through the garage.

Tony no sooner had the bedroom door closed behind them when he pulled off his jacket and tossed it to the floor, followed immediately by his shirt and trousers. "Give me those," Tony smirked as he took the crutches and tossed Chris's coat to the floor on top of his own.

Tony helped Chris to the bed then quickly nudged him to lie down.

"If you were in this much of a hurry we didn't have to leave the party," Chris laughed. "We could have just gone out to the garage and I could've stuck my hands down your pants. Then you would have gotten off and been back to the party before the ice melted in your drink."

"I was just in a hurry to get you alone, moron. I've waited too long for this and I'm not going to rush through it. Besides, you're the one who said that he was going to explode."

"Well, don't do this just for my benefit," Chris raised his chin in mock petulance. "You can keep your mercy fuck."

"Damn, I've missed you," Tony chuckled, kissing Chris's pouting lips. "I especially missed you at night. I had to sneak away to the bathroom and take care of business so many times that my mom thought I'd developed stomach trouble."

"Well, at least you could take care of _your_ business. Ever since I came home from the hospital, my mom has been making me sleep with the bedroom door open in case I need her. She won't even let me lock the bathroom door because she's afraid I'm gonna fall, and she'll need to come in and help me. And yesterday morning I dropped my can of deodorant on the bathroom floor, and she came barging in to make sure that I was alright."

"What's so bad about that? Your mom isn't my favorite person, but I have to give her credit for caring about you."

"I was naked, Race! She barged into the bathroom and I was totally naked! It was . . . It was gross! I haven't been able to look her in the eye since. I don't think that I'll ever be able to look her in the eye again!"

Tony clenched his lips together trying to keep a straight face. He could picture Chris standing naked with his jaw hanging open in shock while scrambling for something to cover himself. Tony could feel the sides of his mouth starting to curl, and his shoulders were shaking as he fought to keep from laughing.

"What? . . . . What? . . . . It's not funny, Race!"

The look of righteous indignation on Chris's face was more than Tony could stand, and he exploded into thunderous laughter.

"Fine!" Chris snarled, pushing Tony away and sitting up in the bed.

"I'm sorry," Tony snorted. "I couldn't help it. It's funny. You must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights. . . . A _naked_ deer caught in the headlights!"

"If the thought of me being naked is so hysterical to you, then you don't ever have to see me naked ever again!" Chris said, pushing Tony out of his way and scooting across the mattress on his butt.

Tony grabbed Chris's arm and pulled him back. "C'mon, Blink, I'm sorry I teased you, but we both know that your mom is fuckin' nuts. You've gotta learn to laugh at this kinda of stuff or she's gonna drive you bat-shit."

"You wouldn't think it was so funny if _you_ had to live with her."

"Well, you won't have to put up with it for too much longer. When we graduate in June, I'm getting you the hell out of there. I don't care if I have to work two jobs when we start college, we're getting our own place, and I don't want _her_ coming over to see you unless I'm there to run interference. Then, when we both have our degrees and are making some real money, the first thing we're gonna do is buy your mom a condo in Florida or something so she can't come between us anymore."

"What do you mean _we _are going to buy her a condo?"

"I mean we, as in you and me. You don't expect me to pay for it myself do you?"

"I wouldn't expect you to pay for it at all. Why would you want to buy my mother a condo?"

"I always figured that we'd share everything like my parents did. It was never his money or her money; it was always their money. I mean, I know that you're going to be a lawyer, but I don't like the idea of those palimony agreements. To me, signing one of those things would be like betting against us. We're never gonna split-up, so we don't need one of those things."

"Are you saying that we're going to be together? Like forever?"

"Of course that's what I'm saying. I thought that's what we both wanted. Don't you want us to be together?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do, but my mom and I talked about that while you were gone, and she said I shouldn't expect to be with you after high school. She keeps reminding me that most people don't end up with the person they first fall in love with.

"Wake up and smell the Valium, Blink! Your mom is a controlling whack-job who'd love nothing better than to break us up. She thinks that if she can get you away from me then you'll magically turn straight. . . . . Jeez, I'm still in high school and I already have mother-in-law trouble. . . . Now that I think about it, Florida is too close. We're gonna get that woman a condo so far away that she'll need a passport to get back into the country!"

"Um, Race? Did you just call my mom your mother-in-law?"

"Okay, so she won't technically be my mother-in-law. I know we can't get married like my parents, but that doesn't mean that it won't be the same for us. We'll be partners for life just like they were. . . . That is what you want too, isn't it?" Tony asked nervously.

"Yeah, it is, Race. More than you know."

"Then what's the problem? . . . . Hey, wait a minute! You're not expecting me to get down on one knee like the guys do in those cheesy chick-flicks, are you?"

"God, no!" Chris laughed. "I don't think I could keep a straight face if you did something like that."

"So then you do want us to be together, right?"

"Hell, yes!" Chris said, pulling off his shirt and pushing Tony back down onto the mattress. "Now, how about you showing me what those nights in our own place are going to be like?"

"You're such a slut," Tony grinned, sliding on top of Chris.

"And you're the best thing that ever happened to me," Chris sighed, against Tony's ear. "Now shut up and start doing nasty things to me!"

"Damn, I've missed you," Tony smiled against Chris's neck. He reveled in the feel of his lips traveling Chris's smooth skin, and breathed in the warm sent of the familiar cologne. Tony marveled at the sight of his pale white hand against the slightly darker skin of his lover's body. Chris wriggled slightly when Tony's mouth found his nipple and a half sigh and half moan escaped his lips.

Tony was lost in the moment but was jolted back to reality when Chris pushed him away gasping; "Wait a minute!"

"What the hell is the matter now?" Tony groaned, throwing himself back against the pillow.

"Nothing's wrong. I forgot that I have something I want to give you."

"I have something I want to give you too, so shut up and lay back down so I can give it to you."

"Very funny," Chris mumbled, while trying scoot off the bed by kicking his legs and sliding along on his butt.

"Damn, Chris, do you have to do this now? Can't it wait?"

"It will only take a minute. It's in my coat pocket."

"Fine," Tony grumbled, pulling himself off the bed. "I'll get it."

He handed the coat to Chris and tried not to look too impatient as Chris searched through the pockets. "Here," Chris said, handing him a cassette.

"What is it?"

"Put it in the player and you'll see."

They both listened as the wheels on the tape turned and squeaked in the player. When the first few notes played, Tony smiled. He recognized it immediately. It was their song; _Can't Fight the Feeling_. But he was still a bit confused. He already had that cassette. Chris knew that he played it all the time.

"Well? Chris asked.

Tony smiled not knowing what to say. He didn't want to seem ungrateful, but there was obviously something that he wasn't getting.

"That's ninety full minutes of REO Speed wagon's, _Can't Fight the Feeling_. I recorded it for you while you were away. I know how you like to listen to it over and over, and now you don't have to keep getting up to rewind the tape so you can play it again."

"This is fantastic, Blink. But it must have taken you forever to make."

"What else did I have to do while you were away? It took me a few days to get it done with all the stopping and rewinding and starting again, but it was worth it. It made me feel like you weren't so far away, and it gave me the added satisfaction of driving my mother crazy."

"Your mother is already crazy." Tony said laying back down with Chris.

"Yeah, but she knows that it's our song so that made her even crazier. It felt like I was fighting back without having an actual confrontation."

"You're a sneaky bastard," Tony laughed. "You're gonna make a great lawyer."

Chris smiled, and Tony's stomach tightened. To him, there was nothing more beautiful than that smile. "Now, where were we?" Tony asked, moving his mouth back to his lover's chest.

The sight and feel of Chris's body always excited Tony, but now it seemed new and even more intoxicating. The feel of the subtle muscles on his lover's abdomen made Tony's breath quicken as his hands and mouth traveled the length of the lean torso. Tony ached inside when he reached the spot under Chris's navel where the line of hair lead a path below his trousers. Tony eagerly undid the button and zipper, but was exceptionally gentle when he pulled the trousers with the one cut off pant leg, and the boxers over the plaster cast. When he rolled Chris onto his side he breathed, "I love you, Blink," against Chris's shoulder.

"I know you do," Chris gasped as Tony reached down his back. "I love you too, Race."

After, they lay together, half-asleep and completely satisfied. A sudden burst of loud music from Itey's house made Tony groan. "We'd better get back to the party before my mom finds out that we skipped out."

"Okay," Chris yawned as he searched the bed for his clothes. He found his shirt tangled in the sheet and blanket at the end of the bed, and was putting it on when he noticed that Tony was watching him. He was leaning against the headboard, still unclothed and grinning from ear to ear. "What's with you?" he asked uncomfortably.

"I've decided that I'm actually glad we can't get married."

Chris's heart sank and his stomach clenched as he gaped at Tony.

"Don't get bent out of shape," Tony said when he saw the look on Chris's face. "I still want us to stay together, but the thought of you in a wedding dress is making me want to hurl!"

"You suck!" Chris said, hitting him on the arm. "You scared the shit out of me, you prick!"

"You're stuck with me and you know it," Tony laughed. "So whadda you say we make it official?"

"What do you mean official? How can we do that?"

Tony spat in his had and reached out to Chris. "Partners for life?" he asked.

"Partners for life," Chris said, spitting in his own hand and sealing the deal with an official spit-shake.

* * *

"You proposed with a spit-shake?" Jack laughed. "What a moron!" 

"Screw you, Kelly," Chris grinned. "It was very romantic, and it was the perfect proposal for a gambler like Tony to make. I couldn't have asked for better."

"Well, I made up for it the last time I proposed." Tony said. "I did the entire one-knee, hearts-and-flowers thing, and he didn't laugh like he thought he would. Then Chris went and turned the table on me."

"Yeah, after the ceremony when the guy said we could kiss, I spat in my hand and held it out to Tony. He laughed and we sealed the ceremony with good old fashioned spit-shake. We kissed too, but I don't think that it would have been official, for us, if we didn't spit-shake."

"The guy thought we were nuts," Tony snorted.

"You are nuts," Spot added. "And I bet you had that damn song playing the entire time."

"We sure did," Chris said, sliding his arm around his partner. "It's been my favorite ever since Tony snuck me behind that curtain for our first dance."

"Oh, I seem to recall that song making several appearances before that night," Spot smirked.

"Shut it, Conlon!" Tony demanded.

"Sorry Race, but that story is too good to waste."

"It is one of my favorites, too," Chris grinned.

"Don't make me cut you off," Tony glared at Chris.

"Now you've got to tell that story," Jack pleaded. "If it will keep Race from wanting to have sex all over the place, I'll pay you to tell that one."

"Well, Race had it bad for Blink from the first time he laid eyes on him. Back then, Blink was clueless as to his sexuality and to Race's mad crush. Tony would sit in his room hour after hour, listening to that song and pining after Blink. It went on for months, right, Itey?"

"That's right. He was making everyone crazy, playing that song over and over and over and—"

"They get the point, Itey!" Tony grumbled.

"Anyway," Spot continued. "One day Mr. H. had all he could stand. He was trying to read his newspaper, and it seemed like every time he turned the page, Race started that song over again. Finally Mr. H threw down the newspaper and stormed down the hall to Race's room. He banged on the door until Race turned off the stereo and hollered for him to come in. Mr. Higgins was trying to stay calm, and he did a good job for a while, but then he lost it. He said, 'Anthony, you are my first-born child, and I love you very, very much. I would do anything for you including give up my life. But if you don't stop playing that damn record, I'm gonna throw it out the window, and then I'm gonna throw _you_ out the window after it!'"

"That's it?" Mush grumbled. "I thought this was a good story. My mom threatened me like that all the time. She still does."

"No, that's not the end of the story," Spot laughed. "Reggie and Itey felt sorry for Race, so when his birthday came around, they bought him a set of stereo headphones. Then he was able to listen to that song and pine after Blink without bothering anybody. It worked for a while, but then one night we were all sitting around watching TV and we heard Race start to sing a the top of his lungs,

'_And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I miiiiiiiight!  
And I can't **fight** this feeling a-ny-moooooore!  
I've forgotten what I started fighting foooOOOooor!. . . ._'

"Mr. H. put down his newspaper, but this time he was smiling, and he told us all to come with him. He opened the door and there was Race, lying on the bed with his headphones on. His eyes were closed, and his arms were stretched out to the ceiling and he was singing;

'_And if I have to crawl upon the floor!  
Come **CRASHING** through your door!  
Baby, I can't fight this feeling a-ny-moooooore!_'"

"It was beautiful," Itey laughed. "Race must have realized that something was wrong, and opened his eyes and saw Mr. and Mrs. H., Reggie, Spot, and me all standing in the doorway watching him. He sat up and pulled off the headphones and shouted 'What the Hell?!' Then . . ." Itey was laughing so hard he couldn't go on. "You tell it, Spot," he managed to choke out.

"Then I threw out my arms and shouted, 'Baby! I didn't know you cared! C'mere and kiss me!'"

"You should have been there!" Itey snorted. "Race flipped out and charged at Spot, who took off running. The whole way Spot was laughing shouting 'Baby, come and get me!' He chased Spot out into the yard and started to beat the crap out of him. Spot was laughing so hard that he couldn't fight back. He just curled up into a ball and kept laughing. It took both me and Mr. H. to pull Race off of him. Then when Race finally calmed down, Mr. H went into his tool box and took out a roll of duct tape. He told Race that if he couldn't learn to sing more quietly that he should put a piece of tape across his mouth the next time he wanted to play that song."

"I hope you all enjoyed the story," Race grumbled.

"You didn't have to suffer for too long," Spot laughed. "A month later, Blink suddenly realized that he was hot for your form and jumped you. Then you were both too cute trying to look like you weren't doing the nasty."

"We're still cute," Chris grinned, kissing Tony on the cheek. "And we proved my mother wrong. We're together fifteen years and counting. I guess we all beat the odds," he said, gesturing around the room at his friends.

"Not all of us, huh, Skitts?" Itey asked, looking at his brother.

"No, brother Itey. We Callo boys didn't end up the way either of us expected, did we?"

End Chapter 21

* * *

A/N: 

Thanks for taking the time to read this story. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

Let me know that you're out there. It's getting lonely around here!


	22. Getting to Know You

I do not own Newsies. Disney owns Newsies. Disney owns almost everything.

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

I am making no money from this story, so my chances of purchasing any of the above are slim to none.

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Adult Language.

* * *

Beta credit for this chapter goes to the amazing pennylayne. Her own busy schedule gives her little time to breathe, but she still found the time to help me. She's not only the quintessential overachiever, she's an amazing person. Check out her work at FanFiction and The Refuge. Also, check out her work with Frisky Wallabee at the Wonder Twins LJ.

* * *

Chapter 22 – Getting to Know You

"Yep," Itey said as he tossed his brother a bottle of beer and opened one for himself. "Who would have thought that out of all these losers, you and I would have ended up single?"

"Well, you ended up closer than me, Brother Itey. At least you and Reggie are still together in a totally weird and non-sexual sort of way."

Chris dug his fingers into Tony's arm, stifling the outburst that he knew was about to erupt.

"Your eighteenth birthday party seemed like the start of a whole new world for us, didn't it, brother?"

"I'll drink to that," Itey said, clinking his bottle against Skittery's.

* * *

As Irish strolled around the utility room, her attention was drawn to the workbench on the opposite wall. The work area itself was not unusual, but the walls surrounding it were. They were covered with photographs. There were baby pictures, communion portraits, school photos, and a couple of prom shots. Some were in frames while others were held up with thumbtacks. They were all pictures of the Callo children, except for a few shots of Skittery's mother and a portrait of Mr. and Mrs. Callo at their wedding.

"That's quite a collection, isn't it?"

Irish hadn't noticed Skittery come back into the room and jumped when she heard his voice. "I hope you don't mind that I took a look around," she said, feeling like she'd been caught snooping.

"Nah," he smiled, handing her a fresh drink. "My dad calls this room his sanctuary. He hides in here when he wants to get some peace and quiet. This house can get pretty crazy when all of us are home at the same time."

"Do you ever feel lost, being part of such a large family?"

"Not at all! I feel damn lucky to be a part of this family. My mom always says that she and my dad would welcome as many children as God saw fit to bless them with. Dad agreed with her until number twelve arrived. Now he says that if he sees the stork trying to land at our house again, he's gonna shoot him and make Mom cook him for Sunday supper."

"How does your dad remember who is who in all of these pictures? There are only four kids in my family, and my dad can't tell one of us from another in our bay pictures."

"Dad's really good at organizing things. You have to be when you have a family this size. He's hung the pictures in rows by age from the oldest to the youngest. This is Seraphina, then me, then Itey, Emilio, Antonia, then the twins, Paulo and Leonora, then Maddelena, Pietro, Isabella, Ernesto, and over here is the baby, Anna."

Irish looked up at the second photo in one of the rows and began to giggle. "Is that you?" she asked, pointing at a snapshot of a toddler sporting short pants and knobby knees.

"Yep. That's little Skittery."

"You were adorable."

"I'm still adorable." Skittery grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

"And you're modest, too," Irish scoffed, rolling her eyes. "So how did little Giovanni get the nickname Skittery?"

"Well, it was my grandparents' first Fourth of July after moving here from Italy, and my parents took us all to the town picnic to celebrate. There were only three of us kids back then. Seraphina was six years old, I was three, and Itey was just a baby. Now, the way my dad tells the story is that every time a firecracker went off, I'd get scared and start to cry."

"Didn't the noise bother Itey? He was only a little baby."

"Nah. You know Itey. It takes a lot to get him fired up. I, on the other hand, cried all day until it got dark and the big fireworks display started. My dad says that when the first shot went off I let out a blood-curdling scream, and Grandpa Callo picked me up and covered my ears. He was really pissed at my dad and started yelling at him in broken English, 'You should be ashamed for yourself! This poor little baby, he's skittery and should be home asleep in the bed and not with strangers and cannons blowing-up!' Then Dad got mad at Grandpa for telling him how to run his family and they started yelling at each other in Italian. Grandpa was so angry that he stormed out of the park with me still screaming in his arms. When the rest of the family got home, they found Grandpa and me asleep in the rocking chair. It took three days for Grandpa to start speaking to my dad again. After that, they all started calling me the skittery baby. Eventually the baby part was dropped, and everyone just called me Skittery."

"Oh, that's so sweet," Irish cooed.

"Yeah," Skittery smirked, moving closer. "All the girls tell me that I'm incredibly sweet."

"I'll say one thing about you, Skittery Callo. You definitely _do not_ have an inferiority complex," Irish chuckled as she moved away, reaching for her drink. Before her hand reached its destination, Skittery took hold of it and laced his fingers with hers. "Don't _you _think that I'm sweet?" he asked, pulling her closer.

Irish could feel the heat rising from her neck to the top of her head, and she was convinced that her palm was beginning to sweat. "You're okay, I suppose," Irish feigned a laugh, pulling back her hand and moving further away. Then she took a large swallow of her drink, hoping that it would cool the hot flush of her face.

"Maybe you just need to get to know me. I may grow on you," he smiled.

"I could give it a try," she said, glancing at him sideways, then immediately moving her eyes back to her drink.

"Irish, am I making you nervous?'

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Well you're trying very hard not to look me in the eye. I was thinking that maybe you were afraid of me."

"Afraid? Of you? Don't make me laugh!" Irish snapped, now looking him straight in the eye. "I . . . ." She struggled for words but none came. She'd never seen Skittery's eyes so intense.

After a long, long moment, Skittery raised his hand and ran his thumb along her cheek. "I want to kiss you," he said with eyes fixed on hers.

Irish took a half-step back, but Skittery quickly closed the gap between them. "Do you want me to kiss you?" he asked, reaching up and stroking her hair.

"I . . ." The words stuck in her throat and came out dry and raspy. "I'm not sure," she answered honestly.

Skittery gently lifted her face to his and leaned down to kiss her. Their lips barely touched, but it was enough to coax a soft yet audible sigh from the back of her throat.

"I guess that answers my question," Skittery grinned as he pulled away.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I heard that little squeaky noise you made when I kissed you, so don't pretend that you didn't like it. What kind of noise are you gonna make when I really kiss you?" he asked, sliding his hand around her waist.

"If your ego gets any bigger you won't be able to get your head through that door." Irish bristled, trying to cover her embarrassment.

"Stop acting like you're the last virgin at a pagan ritual. I was going to kiss you, not throw you into a volcano!"

"Excuse me, Romeo, but I didn't agree to meet you here tonight for a quick game of grab and tickle. And if you thought that you were going to get your jollies off with me in here tonight, you are most definitely mistaken!"

"No, I didn't think that I was gonna get my _jollies_ off here tonight! There are enough bars and parties around campus where I could have gotten that. And to be honest, I wouldn't have to try hard to get it!"

"You do think highly of yourself, don't you?"

"No, I don't! I'm trying to be honest with you. I like you a lot, and I want to get to know you better. And maybe if you take that stick out of your ass and shut up for a minute, you'd realize that you like me too! Now, if you think that kissing me is that repulsive, you can go back out and sit with Snoddy Morrison and torture him."

Skittery turned Irish around and gave her a nudge toward the door. She, in turn, spun back around and gave him a hard shove to the chest.

"First of all, I don't need _your_ permission to go and sit with anyone! If I want to sit with Snoddy, then I'll go out there and sit with him! It just so happens that I don't want to sit with him! Second of all, I didn't say that kissing you was repulsive, so don't go putting words in my mouth! And third, what to you mean I have a stick up my ass?! Just because I didn't _jump_ into your arms doesn't mean that - -"

"Wait a minute. Go back one."

"What do you mean, got back one?! Go back one what?!"

"Go back to the part about kissing me."

"What about it?!"

"You said that kissing me wasn't repulsive."

"So!"

"So that means that you liked kissing me, doesn't it?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Hah! You liked me kissing you and you know it!" Skittery laughed.

"Skittery Callo, you are the most infuriating person that I've ever met!" Irish shouted as she turned away.

"Skittery put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back against his chest. "You know, it's okay to like kissing me," he whispered against her ear. A warm tingle spread across her body as his hot breath ghosted her neck. "I liked kissing _you_," he breathed, kissing her jaw.

The feel of Skittery's lips against her skin strangled any thoughts Irish may have had of moving away. She gasped in a breath as his mouth made its way down the length of her neck. Then, when Skittery kissed her collarbone, she tilted her head and leaned back against him.

Skittery turned Irish around and again stroked her hair. He stared into her eyes for just a moment and then gently took her face into his hands and kissed her.

This didn't feel like it did when Snoddy had kissed her. This didn't feel like it did when anyone else had kissed her. She barely noticed the sound of her own breathing as it became rapid and uneven. The butterflies in her stomach moved lower and soon turned into an intent and fervent ache.

Suddenly all those health classes with Sister Mary Larkson flashed through Irish's mind. She could have sworn that she actually heard the Sister's voice giving the standard Catholic school virginity speech.

"_There are many temptations out there and you must fight against them. Never allow yourself to be put into a situation where your values can be compromised. A good girl will remain strong when faced with sinful temptation." _

"Shut up, Sister Mary," Irish mumbled against Skittery's lips.

"What?!" Skittery gasped pushing himself away.

"Nothing," Irish breathed, pulling him back to her and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I'll be right back," Tony said after getting Chris situated back on the corner toy chest. He found Reggie and Itey standing by the tape deck searching through Itey's cassettes. "Thanks, man." Tony said, reaching to shake Itey's hand.

"Don't mention it," Itey replied.

"Ever!" Reggie snapped, punching Tony in the arm.

"Ouch!" Tony grumbled rubbing his arm. "That hurt!"

"Good!" Reggie snarled. "Now go away and leave Itey and me alone. And don't you dare bother us again. Do you understand?!"

"Okay, okay," Tony said, still rubbing his arm. It always amazed him how someone as tiny as Reggie could hit so hard.

Tony begrudgingly kept his word and left Reggie and Itey alone, but he almost lost it when they got up to slow dance. When he saw Itey pull Reggie close to him, Tony jumped out of his seat, but Chris pulled him back down onto the bench and reminded him of his promise.

Spot was no longer sitting in the corner pining over Mush. He was making his way through the crowd to Tony and Chris. "Have either of you seen Skittery?" he asked with his eyes scanning the room.

"The last time I saw him, he and Irish were headed for the utility room, but that was more than an hour ago," Chris replied.

"Is something wrong?" Tony asked, judging Spot's expression.

"Not yet," Spot replied.

Skittery's tongue moved urgently against Irish's lips and pleaded for entrance. When it was granted, Irish again made an audible sound, but this time it wasn't a squeaky sigh that escaped her throat, it was a deep and unmistakable groan. The sound made Skittery's blood race faster and he shifted their position to press Irish against the workbench.

Their breathing became shallow and labored, and the feel of Irish pressed against him sent Skittery's blood surging below his belt. They were both lost in the moment as they writhed against one another. Skittery opened the top button of Irish's dress, and his lips moved lower. When she felt his hand move slowly up her thigh, she instinctively wrapped her leg around his.

Neither Skittery nor Irish heard the knocking at the door. When they didn't answer, the knocking became louder and more persistent.

"Go away!" Skittery shouted then pressed his mouth to cover Irish's.

"It's me, Spot. Open the door."

"Get away from that door, Spot, or so help me I'm gonna—"

Before Skittery could finish his sentence, Spot pushed open the door. He pretended not to notice that Skittery had Irish half lying on the workbench, and his hand was three-quarters the way up her thigh.

"Sorry, Irish," Spot said, only glancing in her direction. "Skitts, you need to come out here right now."

"Damn it, Conlon!" Skittery shouted, moving to shield Irish from his view while she straightened herself.

"I'm not fuckin' with you, Skitts. You need to get out here right now!"

End Chapter 22

A/N:

Thanks for taking the time to read this story. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.


	23. Email vs The World

I do not own Newsies. Disney owns Newsies. Disney owns almost everything.

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

I am making no money from this story, so my chances of purchasing any of the above are slim to none.

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Adult Language.

* * *

Beta credit for this chapter goes to the amazingly talented (and part time super hero) pennylayne. In addition to fighting injustice, she uses her Wonder Twins powers to battle the evil forces of grammar and banish them from my stories. You can read her stories here at Fan Fiction and at The Refuge. You can also view her work with Frisky Wallabee at the Wonder Twins LJ.

* * *

Chapter 23 – E-mail v/s The World 

Irish straightened her appearance as Skittery blasted Spot for barging in on them.

"Whatever's going on out there had better be worth risking your life," Skittery growled.

"It's E-mail, Skittery. He's high."

"So what else is new?"

"This time it's different, Skitts. He's good and high. You need to get out here now!"

Skittery knew that Spot didn't exaggerate. He also knew that given Spot's experience with addicts, he couldn't just ignore this. He'd at  
least better go out to take a look.

"Okay, I'll be out in a minute," Skittery said, nodding for Spot to leave the room.

"Sorry Irish," Spot said, glancing in her direction and then slipping out the door.

Irish looked mortified when Skittery turned back to her. He almost wished that he hadn't put her in such an embarrassing situation. _Almost_. He'd never felt such an attraction to anyone. "I'm sorry that happened," Skittery said, putting his hands on either side of her face and kissing her forehead.

"Don't worry about it," Irish smiled, trying to look as though being caught with her dress hiked up was _not_ the most embarrassing thing  
that had ever happened.

"I'll be back in a couple of minutes," Skittery smiled. He started to leave, but noticed Irish glance quickly below his waist then away again.

When he looked down, Skittery saw the unmistakable bulge in his jeans. He was fully aware that his jeans had become pleasantly uncomfortable, but he didn't realize it was that noticeable. "Is it obvious?" he asked, hoping that it only looked that way from his angle.

Irish couldn't answer. Her face was crimson, and she was now more embarrassed that she'd ever thought possible.

"I'll take that as a yes," Skittery said, rushing to the clothes dryer. He opened the machine's door and rummaged through the mass of clothing until he found an old football jersey. He pulled it on over his shirt and stretched it down as far as it would go. "Camouflage." Skittery grinned widely, wiggling his eyebrows. "Don't go away," he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "We haven't finished our discussion yet."

When Skittery went out the door, Irish slumped against the workbench. If it were possible to actually die from embarrassment, she would have keeled over right there. She knew it was only her imagination, but somehow in the back of her mind, Irish was convinced that this was all a plot made up by Sister Mary to punish her for walking head-on into temptation.

Everything seemed normal as Skittery glanced around the room. Itey and Reggie were enjoying a slow dance in the corner. David and Sarah were sitting quietly and trying to look interested as Jack and Pie talked about sports. Tony was making out with Chris while watching Itey and Reggie over Chris's shoulder. And Mush was sitting in the corner sulking. Everything appeared normal.

Skittery kept his eyes on E-mail as he made his way over to Spot. "Nice shirt," Spot said without expression as looked down at the bulge that was still slightly visible in Skittery's pants.

"Very funny. So what's the problem? He looks okay to me."

"Watch him." Spot said, looking back at Skittery's brother. "Somethin' ain't right."

E-mail was standing alone against the wall, drinking a soda. He was moving to the music and bouncing his head, but he looked as if he were listening to heavy metal and not the soft slow music that was playing. Every couple of seconds, he'd mumble to himself and then burst onto quick fits of laughter. After a few minutes, E-mail strutted over to Mush and kicked his chair. "How's it goin', asshole?" E-mail laughed.

Spots fingernails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists. It took all of his willpower not to knock E-mail senseless.

"It's a freakin' party, Mushy-boy! Why are you sitting here playing with yourself when you could be out there getting some tail?"

"Fuck off," Mush replied with little emotion.

Spot and Skittery watched as E-mail made his way around the room. He was insulting and abrasive and making a general ass out of himself.

"That little prick!" Skittery growled. But before he or Spot could make a move, E-mail turned and grabbed Reggie's arm, pulling her away from Itey.

"C'mon! Dance with me!" E-mail demanded.

"This ain't good," Spot said under his breath.

Itey pushed his brother away from Reggie and stepped between them. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" Itey shouted.

"Oh, come on, brother, I'm just trying to have some fun. This party bites!"

"Reggie, go sit by Race," Itey said, still keeping between her and his brother. "I'll be over in a minute."

Before she took a step, Tony was at her side and moving her back against the wall. Chris pulled himself up with his crutches and stood alongside of Tony. Chris knew that he wouldn't be much help in a fight, but at least he could stand between Reggie and any trouble.

"Lighten-up, brother," E-mail snorted, shoving Itey's shoulder. "It's your birthday, for shit's sake. I only wanted to dance with the little  
princess."

"Well, Reggie doesn't want to dance with you!"

"Okay then. If I can't dance with your girlfriend then I'll just have to dance with you!" E-mail grabbed Itey by the arm and pulled him forward and then roughly shoved him back again.

"Get the fuck off of me!" Itey spat, tearing away from his brother.

Skittery and Spot moved closer when E-mail jumped on the coffee table and started to dance. He was stepping on plates of food and kicking cups of soda across the room.

"Get down from there, you ass!" Skittery ordered.

Spot grabbed Skittery's arm and held him back. "I'm tellin' ya, this ain't good," he whispered. "I've seen this before. You've gotta keep him calm, and don't aggravate him."

E-mail suddenly stopped dancing and looked around the room. "What the hell are _you_ losers lookin' at?!" he shouted.

"Come on, Emilio. Please get down," Skittery said in a more soothing tone.

"Don't tell me what to do!" E-mail shouted, jumping off the table. "And don't call me Emilio! My name is E-mail!" he hissed, shoving Skittery in the chest and knocking him to the floor.

Snoddy gave Skittery a hand up and they, along with Pie, moved closer.

"Take it easy, E-mail," Itey said reassuringly.

"You stay away from me, you mama's boy!"

Itey's fists were clenching and unclenching as he fought to keep his temper under control. He wanted to get his brother away from the party before there was any real trouble. "Why don't you and me go up to our room and I'll show you what Reggie gave me for my birthday."

"Fuck-off, wimp. I know what she _didn't_ give you for your birthday. When are you gonna grow some rocks and start acting like a man. Maybe then she'll be willing to put out."

"I've had enough of your shit!" Itey shouted. "Everyone has! Let's take this outside right now. Just you and me!"

"Why go outside, little Itey? Let's mix it up in here so you can fool your little girlfriend into thinking that you've got a set."

"Hey E-mail! How'ya been, buddy?" Spot asked, moving quickly between the brothers. He was smiling as he reached out and shook E-mail's hand. "I ain't seen you for a while. What've you been doin' with yourself?"

E-mail was completely disarmed. "Not much, Spot," he said, shaking Spot's hand.

"Listen, E-mail," Spot said in a half whisper. "I've been lookin' to score and my source has dried up. Can you hook me up?"

Spot remained smiling as E-mail searched his face. "Sure - - Sure, Spot. No problem. Dutchy and I scored some sweet blow a couple of hours ago. If you've got the cash, I'll take you there now. This party sucks anyway."

When E-mail turned to leave, he saw Skittery, Snoddy, and Pie standing behind him, and Jack and David moving closer. His heart was pounding so loud that he thought everyone in the room could hear it. His face was covered with sweat, and he was struggling to breathe. When E-mail looked back at Spot, he realized what he was doing, and flew into a rage. "Get away from me, you fucking faggot!" he shouted, swinging his fist. Spot easily stepped aside and E-mail fell against the television set, sending it off the stand and smashing against the wall. E-mail's body was now shaking and he was swinging his fists blindly.

Skittery shouted up the stairs for his father, then he and Itey tried to wrestle E-mail to the floor. As E-mail struggled to get free, he slipped  
from Skittery's grip and fell backwards, pushing Itey through the sliding glass door and onto the patio.

"Somebody call an ambulance!" Spot shouted, as he blindsided E-mail. He and Snoddy helped Skittery to hold E-mail, while the others went to help Itey.

When the ambulance arrived, they immediately called for a second. It took two police officers and a paramedic to get E-mail restrained while the second paramedic tended to Itey. Somehow, Itey managed to escape with a few small cuts and what appeared to be a dislocated shoulder. The paramedic stabilized the shoulder, and with the help of Snoddy, got Itey situated comfortably on a patio lounge chair.

"Your older son is starting to come down," the paramedic told Mr. Callo. "He's very lucky. We'll be transporting him in a few minutes."

"What about my other son?"

"He's going to be fine. I can't believe he got off so easy. That kid must lead a charmed life. I'm sorry, but it might be a while before the  
other unit or we can make it back. It must be a full moon or something because we haven't stopped running all night."

"Should I drive him to the hospital myself?

"No sir. It would be better if he stays where he is until we can take him. It will be less painful for the boy if he's transported properly. Just make sure that you keep him warm until we get back."

Mrs. Callo disappeared into the house and returned with an armful of blankets. She gently covered her son and tucked him in as though he were five years old again.

"Enough with the blankets, Mom. I'm okay," Itey groaned, trying to pull free. "You're gonna smother me."

Mr. Callo heard Itey's protests and came to his rescue. "Go and get your purse, dear," he said, giving her an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder. "Make sure that you have the insurance cards in your wallet. We'll need them at the hospital."

"Thanks," Itey said to his father as he freed his good arm from the blankets.

"Your mama is just worried about you and your brother."

"I know she is. How's E-mail?"

"He's going to be alright for now, but your brother won't be coming home for a while. We'll need to send him away someplace if he's ever going to get better."

Mr. Callo looked at his son's large, dark eyes and remembered the little boy that waited at the door every evening for him to return home for work. He swallowed hard trying to choke back the wave of guilt and nausea in his throat. He wished that he could turn back time. Maybe if he hadn't been at work so much, he would have seen the change in Emilio sooner. Maybe if he'd been a better father, he could have kept his sons from getting hurt.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you, Giuseppe. I know that I should have done something about Emilio before now, but your mama and I really did think that keeping him home with us was the right thing to do."

"I know what you're thinking, Dad, and none of this is your fault. E-mail did this to himself. You and Mom do a great job taking care of us kids. I should have listened to Skittery when he said that I was being too soft on E-mail. We should have kicked the shit out of him and gotten him into a program when we had the chance."

"Well, you're going to be okay, and he_ is_ going into a program, so--"

"We're ready to go," Mrs. Callo interrupted. "Serafina is going to drive me to the hospital to be with your brother, and your father is going to stay with you. Make sure that you stay covered up." Her voice cracked as she nervously tucked him in again.

"I'll take good care of him," Mr. Callo assured his wife. "I'm going to follow behind the ambulance as soon as they're ready to take him.

"Hey, Dad?" Itey asked. "Will you bring Reggie to the hospital with you? I want her to see that I'm okay. I don't want her sitting home thinking that I died or something."

"She's still here," Mr. Callo said, pointing across the lawn. "Anthony tried to take her home, but she hit him and refused to leave."

Itey turned his head and saw Tony and Reggie standing by the fence. She was curled under his arm and watching every move Itey made.

"Bring her over so she can see that I'm alright, okay?"

"Okay, son," Mr. Callo said, giving his son a kiss on the head. "I love you, Giuseppe."

"I love you too, Dad."

As Mr. Callo crossed the lawn, he studied Tony and Reggie. Only a month before, they had lost their father and he'd lost his best friend. Tonight, he came very close to losing his sons. He remembered one of the last conversations he had with Mike Higgins. They were talking about Itey and Reggie, and how they were made for each other. Mike Higgins laughed and said that the two of them would someday dance at their children's wedding. Mr. Callo had to shake his head and roll his shoulders to rid himself of the sudden chill that prickled the back of his neck.

"He's fine, Reggie, and he wants to see you," Mr. Callo said with a reassuring smile.

Reggie pushed from her brother's grasp and rushed across the lawn. Tony went to follow, but was stopped by Mr. Callo's hand on his shoulder. "He wants to see _her_, Tony. Give them a little space, okay?"

Tony cocked his jaw to the side and knit his eyebrows together. "Okay," he grumbled, leaning back against the fence.

"How ya doin', Reg?" Itey asked with a large relaxed smile.

Reggie knelt on the ground next to him holding his hand and trying desperately not to cry.

"Get up off that cold ground and sit with me."

"I don't want to hurt you," she sniffled. "I'm fine like this."

"You're not going to hurt me," Itey said, pulling her with his good arm. "I'm okay, Reg, please don't cry. All they have to do is pop my shoulder back in place. You know, like Mel Gibson's shoulder in Lethal Weapon. Hey! Maybe I can do it myself like Mel did in the movie!"

"Itey Callo. Don't you dare try something like that!" Reggie cried.

"I'm only kidding, Reg." Itey smiled, squeezing her hand

"Well, it's wasn't funny," Reggie sniffed.

Itey straightened himself as much as he could, and with his good arm, he pulled one of the blankets from his body.

"What are you doing?" Reggie asked trying to put the blanket back over him. "They said that you have to stay warm until they can take you to the hospital."

"I'm roasting under all this stuff," Itey said, struggling to cover Reggie's shoulders with the blanket.

"Don't argue with me, Itey Callo," Reggie snapped as she tried to shed the blanket.

"No!" Itey barked, pulling her hand away from the blanket. "Don't _you _argue with _me_!"

Reggie straightened her posture and stared at Itey. He had never spoken to her like that before. Her mouth hung slightly open and she was blinking her eyes trying to force back a new wave of tears.

"You can't argue with me tonight," Itey said in a much softer and comforting tone. "It's my birthday, remember?"

"Technically this _isn't_ your birthday," Reggie said, raising her chin like a petulant child.

"As far as you and I are concerned it is. I haven't had a birthday without you since I was seven years old, and I'm not about to start now."

"I'm glad you waited." Reggie smiled, squeezing his hand.

"You should be. If I'd had this party on my real birthday, you would have missed all this excitement." Itey turned to look over his shoulder and winced from the pain.

"Are you okay?" Reggie asked, squeezing his hand tighter. "Can I get you something?"

"I'm good," Itey smiled. "I just wanted to see if anyone was around. I want to tell you something, but I don't want anyone else to hear."

"What is it?" Reggie whispered moving closer. Itey leaned forward as if to whisper in her ear, but instead, he turned his head and kissed her.

Jack and David stood on one side of Tony while Spot stood on the other. They were all staring at him, and waiting for him to lunge at Itey.

"What?" Tony asked, searching their faces.

"Far be it for me to cause trouble," Spot said. "Lord knows that the poor guy could use a crumb thrown at him every once in a while, but why aren't you trying to put Itey out of his misery for kissing your sister?"

"Look at him," Tony smirked. "He's only got one arm. Reg couldn't be any safer. He can't do anything now."

"Yeah," Jack grinned. "Like you and Blink couldn't do anything earlier tonight cause he's only got one leg."

The smirk quickly fell from Tony's face and his eyebrows furrowed as he watched Reggie gently stroke Itey's cheek. He felt like he was fighting a losing battle when Reggie leaned forward and kissed him again.

"Where is Blink, anyway?" David asked.

"I don't know," Tony said, looking around at the crowd. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"There he is," Spot said, pointing to the wall next to the remnants of the glass door. "What the hell is he doing?"

Chris was standing motionless on the patio. His full weight was on his broken leg, and his crutches were nowhere in sight.

"Where are your crutches?" Tony grumbled. "You know that you're not supposed to be standing on that leg."

When Chris didn't answer, Tony gave him a shove in the shoulder. "What the hell is your problem?" Chris still didn't respond. It was like he didn't even hear Tony. "Hey, Blink, are you alright?

Tony stepped in front of Chris to get his attention, but Chris wouldn't look at him. Tony followed his gaze and a chill ran down his spine. "Oh, Jesus!" Tony breathed as he felt the adrenaline spread through his limbs. "Mama! . . . . Mama!" he shouted trying not to panic.

"Stop screaming, Anthony," Mrs. Higgins scolded. "There's no reason to shout, I'm right here."

"There's something wrong with Blink, Mama! . . . It's the glass."

Mrs. Higgins waved to get Kate Meyers' attention and call her over.

"What's wrong?" Mrs. Meyers asked.

"I think Chris having a panic attack," Mrs. Higgins whispered. "He lost his eye by falling through a glass door like Itey."

"Christopher? Are you alright?" Mrs. Meyers asked softly.

"Get me outta here, Race," Chris whispered, still not looking away from the shattered glass. "Get me out here before somebody sees me like this."

"Sure, Blink. Sure. Where are your crutches?" When Chris didn't answer, Tony ran back inside to look but they were nowhere in sight.

"I can't find them."

"Get me outta here, Race, please."

"I'm trying, but I can't carry you. You have to tell me where you left them."

Before Tony knew what was happening, Mush stepped forward and lifted Chris over his shoulder. "He better not hurl on me," Mush growled. They went through the garage and came out on the side of Tony's house. Mush carried Chris across the lawn like he weighed almost nothing.

"Set him down on the couch," Mrs. Meyers instructed.

Mush slid Chris off his shoulder, then stepped away and slipped his hands into his pockets. "Is he gonna be okay?" Mush asked flatly.

"Yes, Mickey," Mrs. Meyers assured him. "He's going to be fine. What he needs right now is a little privacy. Why don't you come into the kitchen and wait with me while I make a phone call."

"I'll wait for you outside," Mush said, moving quickly toward the door.

"Hey, Mush. Thanks, man." Tony said, giving Mush a pat on the back. Mush flinched away from Tony's touch and walked out the door without another word.

"Are you okay, Blink?" Tony asked, sitting next to him on the couch.

"Is Itey alright?" Chris asked through struggled gasps.

"He's fine," Tony assured him.

"Really, Race. Was he hurt bad?"

"He's fine, Blink. I wouldn't lie to you. All he's got is a dislocated shoulder and a few scratches."

Chris looked up at Mrs. Higgins for reassurance. "He's fine, Christopher. He really is. He probably won't even have to stay the night  
in the hospital."

"God, this is embarrassing," Blink shuddered as he drew in a deep, calming breath. He pressed the heel of his hand against his eye trying  
to keep the impending tears from escaping. "Nobody saw me like this, did they?"

"No. Nobody saw you," Tony said, rubbing Chris's back. "Well, nobody but us and Mush."

Mrs. Meyers hung up the telephone and came back into the living room. "I spoke to Dr. Avery. He wants to see you in his office the first thing tomorrow."

"I'm okay," Chris said, wiping his eye. "I don't need to see the shrink!"

"I know. But you had a shock tonight, and I would feel better if you talked about this with him, okay?"

Chris looked at Tony and then back at Mr. Meyers. "Yeah. . . . Okay."

The front door opened and Mush came in carrying the crutches. He leaned them against the side of the couch and left without making eye contact with anyone.

"I'd better go now," Mrs. Meyers said to Tony's mother. "I don't know what I'm going to do about him," she whispered staring after her son. Call me if you need anything."

"Mrs. Meyers?" Chris called after her. "Do me a favor and tell Mush I said thanks, okay?"

"I will. Now get some rest."

Mrs. Higgins stood off to the side and watched the boys. Tony was only seventeen, yet there were times when he seemed more like forty. He wiped the sweat from Chris's face with his sleeve, then Chris whispered something that made both of the boys laugh. They were good for each other, she thought. Tony was strong-willed and had no problem taking over when the occasion arose. Chris, on the other hand, was patient and gentle and kept Tony from becoming too serious. The boys whispered and snickered and shoved each other affectionately. Finally, Chris whispered something and Tony took on a look that she'd never seen on her son's face. She couldn't quite place it, but it was like he was in awe of Chris. They kissed gently, and then Chris looked up and chuckled, "Moron." Tony gave him a shove and laughed, "Jackass." Then Tony leaned back against the arm of the couch and pulled Chris to lie against him.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Mrs. Higgins asked.

"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks Ma," Chris said closing his eye and huddling under Tony's arm. Mrs. Higgins looked at Tony and raised her eyebrow. Tony blushed and shrugged.

When Mrs. Higgins left the room, Tony gave Chris a nudge and whispered in his ear, "Do you know that you just called my mother Ma?"

"Yeah, I know," Blink sighed without opening his eyes.

"Since when do you call my mother Ma?"

"Since _you_ said that we were going to stay together forever. You said that my mom would be your mother-in-law. That would make your mom _my _mother-in-law right?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You guess so?" Chris snorted, straightening himself on the couch. "What do you mean, you guess so? Two hours ago, you said that you wanted us to be together and now you only guess so?"

"Jeez, Blink, will you relax?! You're gonna get yourself all worked up again. I meant what I said. We _are_ gonna be together no matter what."

"So, then, what's the problem?"

"Well, don't you think that we should tell my mother what our plans are before you start referring to her Ma?"

"I think that she already knows," Chris said, curling back against Tony.

"She does already know," Mrs. Higgins said as she came from the hall. She tossed two pillows onto the couch and covered Blink with a blanket. "Chris can call me Ma if he wants. I like it," she said placing a kiss on Blink's head and then one on Tony's. "Now, both of you be quiet and let Chris get some sleep."

"Yeah - - Okay, Mama," Tony stammered wondering how his mother always seemed to know everything.

"Night, Ma," Chris sighed.

"Goodnight, boys."

* * *

"Damn, Spot. You saw Skittery with a boner?" Jack laughed. 

"Jeez, Jack. Out of that entire story that's what you remember?" Tony balked.

"Well, it was impressive," Spot smirked, slapping Skittery on the back.

"And I wasn't even trying." Skittery grinned. "That was only the preliminaries. You should see how impressive I am in the main event."

"Is that an invitation?" Spot asked.

"Definitely not!"

"Will you listen to that?" Specs said to Dutchy. "He's_ my _best friend and I've never even seen it. How come Spot gets to see it and I don't?"

"Okay, now, this is getting creepy," Skittery cringed.

"But it's not fair!" Specs taunted.

"That's it," Skittery said, taking the bottle from Specs's hand. "You've had enough to drink tonight."

"Well, if you ask him nicely, maybe he'll show it to you," Dutchy snickered.

"You've had enough, too," Skittery said, taking Dutchy's bottle. "I'd forgotten how disgusting the two of you can be when you're working together."

"Together is the thing we do best," Specs said, leaning back against Dutchy.

"Well, you have been together since birth," David added. "I guess that you're the only ones here that can say you've only been with each other."

"Chris has never been with anyone but me," Tony corrected.

"We have been luckier than most," Specs agreed. "We both just always knew that we'd be together. Even when we were little kids we knew. We never thought about it much. We just knew. We are pretty damned lucky."

"No," Dutchy said, leaning his chin on Specs' shoulder. "I'm the one who's lucky."

End Chapter 23

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A/N:

Thanks for taking the time to read this story. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated


	24. Racing Against Time

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. She is owned by her creator, Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story.

I am making no money from this story. (Bet that comes as a great surprise to y'all.)

* * *

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Adult Language.

* * *

A/N: Beta credit for this chapter goes to the audacious, pennylayne. Her outstanding writing can be viewed here at Fan Fiction, The Refuge, and at the x wondertwins x LJ.

* * *

C-24 Racing Against Time 

Most of the kids from the party were gone, and those who remained were milling around the patio, watching Itey being secured into the ambulance.

"Well, I'll say one thing," Irish sighed, trying to break the tension. "You people sure throw exciting parties."

"We do try." Skittery nodded. He'd been standing with his arm draped easily over her shoulder, but now dropped it to her waist and moved closer. "And besides, I told you, that the Callo house can get pretty crazy when we're all home at the same time. You should keep that in mind if you plan on being around here more often."

"I'll take that under advisement," Irish replied, putting her arm around his waist.

David and Jack nudged each other and grinned.

"They're ready to go," Mr. Callo said to Skittery. "I'm going to take Reggie in the car with me and follow the ambulance to the hospital."

"I'll follow you in my car," Skittery said, pulling his car keys out of his jeans pocket. "I want to be there when Emilio wakes up so I can kill him. He was damn lucky this time. One of these days he and Dutchy are gonna--"

"Shit!" Spot shouted. "Dutchy! E-mail said that he and Dutchy scored a couple of hours ago. Has anybody heard from Specs?"

Skittery ran inside to the phone and quickly dialed Specs's number. "Come on, come on, pick up the phone," he pleaded into the receiver. "Hi, Mrs. Bergman, this is Skittery. Is Specs- -Huh?" Skittery pushed down the receiver button and dialed again.

"What did she say?" Spot asked.

"I dialed the wrong freakin' number! . . . Shit! It's busy." Skittery dialed Dutchy's number and it too was busy.

"Maybe they're talking to each other," Jack suggested.

"Or maybe they aren't even home." David added. "Anyone could be using those telephones."

"I've got to get to the hospital," Mr. Callo said to Skittery. "You go and find your friends."

"But - -"

"Giovanni, I know that you are a grown man now, but I'm not so old that I can't handle things at the hospital without you holding my hand. You saw what happened to your brothers. Do you want that to happen to your friends? Now, go and do what you have to do."

"You keep trying to get through!" Skittery shouted to Irish as they ran out the door. "Jack, you and Dave go to Specs's, and Spot and I will head over to Dutchy's.

Skittery raced across town with Jack's car right behind. Skittery sped past Specs's house on Third Street and continued toward Dutchy's. Jack stopped in front of Specs's, and when he opened the car door, he heard Skittery's tires scream as he turned the corner onto Dutchy's street.

Jack banged on the front door, but nobody answered. "The door's locked," he said, jiggling the knob.

David walked around the house and looked through the windows as he went. "I don't see anybody, Jack," he hollered. "I'm going to try the back door." David returned in less than a minute. "If there was somebody on the phone, there isn't now, because I can hear it ringing off the hook in the kitchen."

Skittery banged on the front door of Dutchy's house. All of the lights were on, but there was no answer. "Screw this!" Spot growled, taking a flowerpot from the front steps and breaking the glass on the door. He knocked the few remaining pieces of glass from the frame and then he reached inside and turned the latch. He and Skittery ran into the house calling for anyone inside. "Shit!" Skittery hissed, seeing that the receiver of the kitchen telephone was off the hook and hanging by its cord. "Dutchy!"

"Up here!" Specs screamed.

Spot and Skittery ran up the stairs and found Specs and Dutchy in the bathroom. Dutchy was unconscious and Specs was hunched over him.

"Jesus," Skittery breathed.

Specs was compressing Dutchy's chest and counting the way they were taught in the swim team safety class. "Twelve - thirteen - fourteen – fifteen," then Specs stopped and followed with two quick breaths into Dutchy's mouth. Skittery and Spot watched as Dutchy's chest rose and fell with each breath then Specs began the compressions and counting again. "One – two – three- . . ."

"Did you call for an ambulance?" Skittery asked.

Specs didn't answer. He kept counting, but he nodded his head, yes. When he reached fifteen, he again administered two quick breaths, and then repeated the sequence.

They heard the ambulance up the street, and Spot ran down the stairs to flag them to the right house. "Second floor bathroom at the end of the hall!" Spot shouted as the paramedics crossed the lawn. "Drug overdose. Cocaine, I think."

Jack and David pulled up to the house just as the paramedics were going inside.

Irish paced on the sidewalk in front of her house, waiting for her brother to arrive.

Jack and David had stopped by earlier to tell her that they'd taken Dutchy in an ambulance, but they didn't know anything more. They'd tired to get into the hospital, but were turned away. There were already more people waiting for Dutchy than the hospital allowed. They were going back to Jack's house and wait for Spot to call. Jack said he'd call her if there was any news.

After sitting by her telephone for what seemed like an eternity, Irish couldn't stand being alone. So much had happened that night and it was all swimming through her mind. She needed to talk to Billy.

"What's going on, kiddo?" Billy asked as he slid out of his car.

"It was awful, Billy," Irish gasped, as she tried to keep from crying. "E-mail was acting crazy and when they tried to stop him, Itey got  
pushed through the glass door, and - -"

"Is Itey alright?"

"I think so. He didn't look like he was hurt too badly, but E-mail was crazy. They had to strap him down. And then Skittery and the others took off in their cars to try and find Dutchy and Specs. They took Dutchy in an ambulance too, but I can't find out if he's alright or not. Ma and Da are at a dance at the lodge tonight, and I didn't know what else to do, so I called you."

"Okay, kiddo, calm down. You go throw some stuff into a bag, and I'll leave a note for the folks saying that you're going to stay the night at my place. Then you and I are going to the diner and getting something to eat."

Irish barely touched her food as she told Billy about Dutchy and E-mail and the smarmy guy in the leather jacket who probably the one was selling them the drugs. "There's something else," Irish said, looking down at her plate, "but I don't know if I can tell you. I'm not really supposed to know. I - - Well, nobody told me. It's something that overheard at work. I don't want to cause any more trouble, but I think that someone should know about it."

"Okay," Billy said leaning closer across the table. "This secret; is it about your friends?"

Irish nodded, only glancing up at Billy and then back down to her food.

"Is it something that's just gossip, or is it possible that someone could get hurt if you don't tell me?"

"Someone already got hurt. A few people that I know of. And maybe - - maybe somebody else could hurt."

"Look at me," Billy said, squeezing her wrist. Irish's head remained down, but she raised her eyes to meet his. "I know that you don't want to repeat something that you overheard, but you aren't a kid anymore. You're old enough to decide whether it's better to keep this to yourself, or to save someone from getting hurt even if your friends might get angry with you."

"I have to tell you." Irish said, almost in a whisper.

Irish avoided looking at Billy as she told him what she'd heard Skittery and Specs talking about that afternoon in the diner. Her stomach  
knotted, and she thought that she might get sick when she told Billy about what the Delanceys did to Dutchy, Specs, and Tony. "I heard  
Skittery tell Specs that they tried to hurt him too, but he used a stick-ball bat on them. He said that he was sorry he didn't tell anyone  
what happened, because now he wonders if not telling made it easier for them to hurt someone else. Specs said that he wanted to go to the police, but Dutchy wouldn't let him. And after that, Dutchy started taking drugs and acting all crazy."

By the time Irish finished the story, her words were coming out in whispered sobs.

"You did the right thing, by telling me," Billy assured her. "Your friend Skittery is right. You can't keep something like this a secret. Now, you sit here and drink your tea, and I'm gonna go call the station."

"You're not going to report this, are you?" Irish asked in a panic. "I mean, the guys don't know that I know. And you can't do that without telling them. It wouldn't be right."

"I'm not going to make a report. You told your brother what happened, you didn't tell Officer Callan. Just trust me, okay?"

"But if you're not making a report, then why are you calling the police station?"

"I'm going to see if I can find out how your friends are, okay, kiddo?"

"Okay," Irish sighed and slumped back against the seat. She knew that she'd done right by telling Billy what she'd overheard, but knowing she was right didn't make her feel any better.

"This Dutchy kid. Is he Adam Schuyler from over on Fourth Street?"

"That's him."

"They brought him by ambulance to Saint Basil's."

"I know, but is he alright?"

"I don't know. They didn't have any information. The officers that answered the call haven't reported back yet."

"Take me to the hospital, Billy."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, kiddo."

"Billy, please. I have to go. If you don't take me, I'll go by bus."

"The hell you will! The bus isn't safe this time of night. There are all kinds of crazies in that part of town."

"Billy!"

"Okay, okay. But you stick close to me, and don't argue!"

The strong antiseptic smell stung Irish's nose as they entered the hospital corridor. Men and women wearing green hospital scrubs and flowered uniform tops mulled around the nurses' station. They talked and sipped coffee and laughed as chaos circled around them. The sound of old people calling for assistance, children crying, and doctors shouting orders all melded together into a shrill buzz.

Several uniformed police officers were chatting in the hallway as though they were out with friends and not in a hospital. One of them looked up and nodded as they walked by.

Billy stopped to take out his police identification and hung it from his breast pocket. He squeezed Irish's hand a little tighter when he saw he fear and confusion on her face. "Wait here for a minute while I find out what's going on," Billy said, then walked over to a man who had a policeman's I.D. hanging from his pocket like her brother's.

Irish's eyes scanned the confusion as she leaned against the wall. She tried to read the expression on her brother's face as he spoke with the detective, but she couldn't. He didn't look like her big brother anymore. He looked like Detective William Callan. He was a total stranger with a familiar face.

When Billy and the detective turned and looked down the corridor, Irish strained her neck to see where they were looking. Her heart sped up when she saw them. Specs, Skittery, and Spot were sitting on a bench at the end of the hall. She broke from the wall and ran passed her brother. Billy watched her protectively as he continued to speak with the detective.

"Skittery!"

He looked up in confusion and then jumped from the bench when he saw her. "What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling her tight against him.

"I got my brother to bring me. I couldn't stand not knowing what was happening. How are they?"

"Itey's fine. It was just a dislocated shoulder like they thought. My parents took him and Reggie home about two hours ago. E-mail is okay. He's in the detox ward. They're gonna keep him there while my parents make arrangements to get him into a program."

"What about Dutchy?"

Skittery moved Irish away from the bench so he could talk without Specs hearing. "I don't know. When we got to Dutchy's he was unconscious and Specs was giving him CPR. They reached Dutchy's mom and she's in there with him now, but nobody will tell us what's going on. The cops keep asking Specs questions, but they don't believe that he doesn't know anything. They act like we're all trying to hide something. I'm not sure but I think that we've been arrested. They told us to sit here and not to leave. I wanted to get Specs something to drink, but they wouldn't let me go to the coffee shop. I'm scared for him, Irish. He stopped talking after Dutchy's mom got here. He won't answer me when I talk to him or even look at me. He just sits there and stares at the floor. I  
hope- -"

"Who are you?" A man wearing a sport coat and a police I.D. barked.

"Excuse me?" Irish asked.

"You heard me. Who are you? What's your connection to all of this?"

"I came to find out how my friends are."

"Your friends?" he asked acerbically. "C'mere. I want to ask you some questions." The man took Irish firmly by the arm to move her away from the others.

"Let go! You're hurting me!" Irish yelled, trying to free her arm from his grip.

"Get your hands off of her!" Skittery shouted.

"What's the problem, Craig?" Billy asked calmly.

"Back-off, Bill. This is my case. Go bother someone else."

"Lose the attitude and take your hand off of my sister," Billy demanded.

"Your sister?" the officer snickered. "Your sister is one of these freaks?"

"My sister isn't a freak, and neither are her friends," Billy said with a wide and disturbing smile. "Now, take your hand off of her or lose it."

The officer released Irish, but stood his ground. "This is my case, Callan, and you're interfering with my investigation."

"Wrong, Craig. This is my case."

"The fuck it is.!"

"Yeah the fuck it _is_! I'm senior man on the Sawyers investigation and this is connected. Now step back or I'll file a complaint against you."

"This is bullshit! I'm calling the Captain."

"Here," Billy grinned, flipping the man a quarter. "The call's on me."

"This is your brother?" Skittery asked, looking skeptically at Bill's long black ponytail and mustache. "I met your brother at your birthday party a few years ago. He has an accent like yours, but this guy sounds more like Spot. And your brother has light brown hair like your mom and looks like you. This guy looks like the scum Specs and I saw hanging around outside the pawn shop."

"I am the scum you saw at the pawn shop, and I am her brother," Billy smiled. "You're Skittery, right?"

"Yeah," Skittery replied cautiously

"I'm working undercover. It took a lot of practice to get rid of my accent so I could blend in. The hair is easy. I just let it grow and died it. You guys handled yourselves pretty good that day in the pawn shop. I had to fight from applauding."

"Your brother's a narc?" Spot asked.

"Yeah! Do you have a problem with that, Spot?" Irish snapped.

"Hell no!" he said pushing past her. "Sean Conlon," Spot said holding out his hand to Billy. "I'm gladd'a meet you."

"Glad to meet you too, Sean," Billy grinned.

"Call me Spot. Everyone does."

"Okay, Spot. Now, who wants to tell me what happened?"

"All we know," Skittery said, "is that Dutchy O.D.'d or something. Specs was giving him CPR when we got there. Nobody will tell us anything about how Dutchy is, and I'm worried about Specs. When I try to talk to him, he acts like I'm not even here. I'm not sure, but I think that we've all been arrested. They won't even let me go and get Specs something to drink. I really think he's sick."

"Well, you're not under arrest," Billy assured them. He walked over to the nurses' desk and leaned over the top where a group of nurses were talking. "Hey, gorgeous," he said to the tall redhead.

"Hi, sweetie!" the woman answered, coming over and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "What are you doing here?"

Irish watched as her brother whispered into the nurse's ear and rubbed his fingers up and down her arm. "Sure," she said. She went in to  
another room and came out with a plastic cup filled with juice. "What's his name?" she asked.

"Daniel Bergman," Billy answered.

"Daniel?" The nurse said bending down in front of Specs.

When he didn't respond, Skittery whispered, "Nobody calls him Daniel. Everybody's called him Specs since he was a little kid."

"Specs, honey. Look at me."

Specs slowly raised his eyes. "How's Dutchy? Is he okay? Why won't anybody tell me what's happening?"

"Specs, honey, I want you to drink this juice."

"I don't want any juice! I want to know how Dutchy is!"

"Peggy," Billy whispered. "Dutchy is his boyfriend."

"Specs? If you drink the juice for me, I'll go in and see how your  
boyfriend is doing, okay?"

Specs stared at her for a moment then took the juice and began to drink. He gagged a bit when the cold liquid hit the back of his parched throat, and then continued drinking.

"Easy," Peggy said. "Drink it slowly." She looked as though she was holding his wrist to comfort him, but when she looked at her wristwatch it was obvious that she was taking his pulse.

"That's good," she said when Specs finished the juice. She went to a shelf against the wall and pulled out a worn, white cotton blanket. She wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and gently lifted his face so that their eyes met. "I'm going to go in and find out how your boyfriend is, okay?"

"Thanks," he said, looking up at her.

Skittery sat on the bench and put an arm around his friend's shoulders. Specs's eyes followed Peggy as she went through the swinging door.

Each time the doors opened, Skittery could feel Specs's muscles tighten. Finally, the door swung open and Peggy walked through. "I spoke with the neurologist," Peggy said, squatting down to make eye contact. "And it looks like he is going to be just fine. He had a seizure and his heart stopped, but he's a very lucky young man. Somebody preformed CPR until the paramedics got there and kept his blood flowing to his brain. There doesn't seem to be any damage."

Specs stared at her looking as though he didn't understand what she was saying.

"He did it," Skittery said. "He did the CPR. He was doing it when we got there."

"Specs, honey," she said patting his hand. "It looks like you saved his life. He's going to be okay because of you."

Specs stared at her for a long moment, and then a loud guttural groan escaped his body. Then he wrapped his arms around his midsection, and curled over.

"Jesus! Is he alright?" Skittery flinched. "Do something!"

"He's fine," Peggy assured them. "He was in shock. All he needed was a blanket, some sugar in his system, and some good news." Specs's tears were coming in deep gasps and he shuddered as if he were freezing. "Let him cry it out," she said, patting Skittery's back. "It will be good for him. You'll need to get some hot food into him soon," Peggy said, looking up at Billy.

"Peggy, I want you to meet someone," he said taking her aside. "This is my sister, Irish. Irish, this is Peggy."

"Thanks for helping my friends," Irish said, shaking her hand.

"Irish, I've wanted you to meet Peggy for a while now. She's not only the best nurse at this hospital, she's also my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you, Irish. Bill has told me a lot about you."

"Really?" Irish said, looking over at her brother. "Well, he never mentioned a thing about you."

"Be nice!" Billy snapped, shoving her in the back.

"I am being nice!" Irish said shoving him back. "I don't have a problem with it. All I said was you never mentioned having a girlfriend to me, and you never did. If she can put up with you, it's fine by me."

The swinging door opened and Specs jumped to his feet when he saw Dutchy's mother. She immediately put her arms around him. "Thank you," she said, pulling him tight.

Specs sobbed uncontrollably into her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he cried in mumbled gulps. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry."

"This isn't your fault," she said, taking him by the shoulders and looking him in the eyes.

"But I knew he was taking drugs, and I didn't tell anyone. He said that he was trying to stop, and I thought I could help him, but I should have told you. It's my fault."

"Specs!" she said, gripping him tighter. "This isn't your fault! He told me what happened. And if you hadn't been there to help him . . ."

"He told you? He's awake?"

"Yes, and he wants to see you."

Dutchy was propped up in the bed when they entered the tiny room. He'd gotten so thin that past couple of months that he almost didn't look real. The hollows under his eyes were deep and blue, and his skin seemed almost translucent as it clung to the tendons and bones underneath. There were tubes in his arms and wires attached to his chest. Above Dutchy's head was a television-style monitor that was steadily beeping and flashing numbers that Specs didn't understand.

"Hi," Dutchy said in a weak and raspy voice.

"Hi," Specs replied, moving next to the bed.

"I really fucked up this time, didn't I?"

"Yeah. You really did."

Neither said anything more, until Mrs. Schuyler pushed a chair next to the bed. "You sit here for a while," she said, nudging Specs down. "I need to go and get a cup of coffee."

"I'm sorry," Dutchy whispered.

"I know," Specs said, taking his hand.

"Mom told me what you did. The doctor said that you saved my life."

Specs didn't answer.

"I'm so sorry that I did this to you," Dutchy sobbed. "I thought that I  
could beat this on my own. I really thought that I could stop. I'm so  
sorry."

Specs jumped when he saw the numbers on the monitor flash higher.

"I'm okay," Dutchy assured him, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his hospital gown. "It does that every now and again."

"I thought you died," Specs choked through his tears. "I thought I was never gonna see you again."

"You know that I have to go away for a while, right?"

"I know."

"I they said that I won't be allowed to have visitors for a while either."

"Can I call you?"

"I can only have phone calls once a week, but I can get letters every day. Maybe you could write to me. If you're not totally fed up with me, that is. If you are, I'll understand."

"Jesus! Either the doctor was wrong and you did suffer brain damage, or you're just fucking stupid! I love you, you ass! I hate what you did to yourself and I hate what you did to us, but I love you and that's not going to change. I'm gonna love you no matter what, but if you _ever_ do something like this again I'm gonna kill you, then I'm gonna give you CPR to bring you back just so I can kill you again. Do you understand? I never - -"

"Specs? . . . I'm really scared."

"I know," Specs said, getting up from the chair and leaning over the bed. "I won't lie and tell you that this is going to be easy because it  
isn't. If I could be there with you I would, but I can't. But I will call you whenever you're allowed to have calls, and I'll write to you every day, and I'm going to be there to take you home the day you get out of that place. And whatever it takes to keep you clean, we'll do it together. Because you and I are going to go on with our lives and die of old age together just like we planned."

"It's time for you to get some rest," the nurse said, entering the room. She checked the monitor and then injected a syringe into the I.V. "You're going to be asleep in a few minutes."

"Is it okay if I stay with him until he falls asleep?" Specs asked, lifting his glasses to wipe his eyes.

"Sure, it's okay."

"Where are my glasses?" Dutchy asked.

"You don't have any. They got broken when this happened."

"Let me use yours for a minute, Okay?"

"We're not the same prescription, so you won't see that well," Specs said, sliding them onto Dutchy's face.

"I just want to see you is all. You were all fuzzy."

"Then give me back the glasses. I look better fuzzy."

"I hate when you talk like that. You don't know how beautiful you are. You never did."

"Stop, okay?"

"What?"

"Damn it, Dutch. You don't have to say that. We both know that I'm not, okay?"

"But--"

"But nothing. Let's not go there. And besides, guys aren't beautiful. Girls are beautiful, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm not a girl."

"Oh, I've noticed. And you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"If you start singing Beautiful Boy again, I'm leaving."

"You love it when I sing that song."

"No I don't. I put up with it because I like the way you sing."

"God, you're such a bad liar. Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

"Yeah, I do. You love me just the same as I love you."

* * *

"That was the longest four months of my life," Specs said, leaning back against Dutchy. "It was the only time that we've ever really been  
separated." 

"But at least you came home in time to graduate with us," Chris interrupted. "And we all got to go to the prom together."

"Not all of us," Spot said looking at Mush.

"Sorry, Mush," Chris said.

"Don't be sorry. I was there. I went with Kerri Latham."

"Don't remind me," Spot groaned. "There I was sitting by myself with these losers and in you walk escorting the two most gorgeous breasts that God ever created. Talk about the times that try a man's soul. There you were, the only man I ever loved, with the breasts that I always wanted to get my hands on."

"I'm disappointed in you, Spot," Itey scowled. "I've never heard you speak about a woman in such a derogatory manor."

"Oh, please," David interrupted. "I don't believe in trivializing a woman's worth by reducing her to a couple of body parts, but Kerri was  
my sister's best friend. She used to walk into a room and announce 'Hi! I'm Kerri, and these are my breasts!'"

"She didn't," Itey gaped.

"Oh, yes, she did, little brother," Skittery snickered. "But in all fairness, I never heard anyone say that they ever slept with her. She  
wasn't a tramp, she was just proud of her attributes."

"So did you get to touch them?" Spot asked.

"You're disgusting!" Itey cringed.

"Sorry, Itey, but I'm with Spot on this one," David grinned. "I'm one hundred percent gay, and I wanted to cop a feel myself."

"Why, David Jacobs!" Jack smirked. "This is a side of you that I've never seen before."

"I wonder what ever happened to Kerri," Mush mused.

"She married a doctor right after college," David replied. "He has a rather large plastic surgery practice on Park Avenue. She has four kids and a house on the Island."

"How do you know so much?" Spot gawked.

"She and her husband were at my sister's thirtieth birthday party."

"How does she look?" Spot asked.

"Well, for _her_ thirtieth birthday, Kerri's husband had her _attributes_ restored to their original glory. They were truly a sight to behold!"

"Itey's right," Chris grumbled. "You guys are disgusting. I always knew that Spot was a freak, but you surprise me, Dave."

"Hey, I may not want to climb the mountain," David laughed. "But I can surely appreciate the view."

"Can we please get back to Dutchy's story?" Itey pleaded.

"Well, graduation is the thing that I'll remember best." Dutchy smiled at Specs.

"I want to ask why," Skittery grimaced, "but I'm afraid that this is going to be another of those stories you tell just to creep me out."

"Nope," Dutchy said, still looking at Specs. "That's when Specs gave me this," he said, holding up his hand and wiggling his ring finger.

"Isn't that your class ring?" Chris asked.

"No. Its Specs's ring. I sold this and my father's pocket watch to buy drugs. They are the two most important things that I've ever owned, and I sold them like it was nothing. I want to get sick every time I think about it. What I didn't know was that Specs bought the ring and watch back the day he and Skittery went to the pawn shop. I thought that they were gone forever, but Specs was keeping them hidden until I was well again. He never said a word about them until graduation night. He took me for a drive just like he did the first time he gave it to me. And just like the first time, he told me that this ring was his promise that he would always love me and that he would always be there for me. This ring hasn't been off my finger once since that night."

"That's right," Specs laughed. "Three years ago when he had to have his appendix out, he refused to take the ring off before the surgery. He and the nurse were actually screaming at each other. I thought that they were going to come to blows over it."

"Yeah, but I stood my ground and won. This ring has never been off my finger and it never will be."

Specs leaned back and looked up at Dutchy. Dutchy, in turn, leaned over and kissed him.

"And that is my cue to hit the sack," Specs said, standing and pulling Dutchy up by the hand. "It's almost time for the sun to come up, and I, for one, need my beauty sleep."

"You can say that again," Skittery agreed.

Slowly everyone wandered to their sleeping bags, and soon the sounds of snoring and quiet mumbling echoed through the room.

Dutchy and Specs, however, didn't go right to sleep. They moved their sleeping bag to the far end of the room under the bleachers.

"Do you know how much I love you?" Dutchy whispered.

"Yes I do," Specs said, pulling Dutchy on top of him. "You love me as much as I love you. And that's one enormous pile of lovin'."

"Well, are you too tired to show me just how much we do love each other?" Dutchy asked, running his tongue along the outline of Specs ear.

"I'll never be too tired for that," Specs said, quickly rolling them over so that he was on top of Dutchy. "And if you play your cards right, maybe I can show you just how much we love each other twice."

End C-24

* * *

**A/N:**

**The CPR scene in this chapter was written using the 1989 CPR guidelines, and its use is intended for entertainment purposes only. These guidelines have since been revised and should not be used in case of an actual medical emergency. You can view the current acceptable CPR guidelines at the American Heart Association website.**

* * *

A/N: 

Thanks for taking the time to read this story. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

Hello! Are you out there?


	25. Spot Takes Charge

**Disclaimer**:

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge, Disney owns them.

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. Her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story, owns her.

I am making no money from this story.

* * *

**Warning**: 

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Adult Language.

* * *

**Changing of the Guard:**

After more than a year providing help and guidance in my writing, pennylayne is stepping down as my beta. She taught me more than she can imagine while encouraging me to relax and have fun. I will be forever grateful.

Beta credit for this chapter goes to the incredibly kind and gracious, Tis a Tale Worth Telling. She is an amazingly talented writer with a fine selection of stories posted at this site. My personal favorite is "Angry Kid With No Money Syndrome." Check out her work. You won't be sorry.

* * *

**A/N:** Pennylanye and her Wonder Twin counterpart Frisky Wallabee have scaled back their writing but have not retired. You can find their work at this site, at the Refuge, and at their Wonder Twins LJ. Don't forget to read Frisky Wallabee's great new one-shots, "I want to Hold Your Hand" and "Jumping Jack Flash."

* * *

Chapter 25 – Spot Takes Charge 

The noise was a combination of a moan, a cry, and a whimper. Skittery shook Spot's shoulder as gently as he could to wake him, but Spot sprang to his feet with his fists clenched. It took several seconds for him to realize that he was still in the hospital corridor.

"Jeez, Spot. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Spot replied, rubbing his hands roughly across his face. "I'm gonna go outside and have a smoke."

The muscles in his arms and shoulders tightened when Spot stepped out into the cold night air. The familiar _ching_ that the Zippo lighter made when he flipped open the top was a comforting sound. He cupped his hands around the flame, and the faint taste of lighter fluid floated past his tongue as he drew on the Camel.

Spot didn't like hospitals. To him, they were a necessary evil resulting in more bad endings than good. He stretched and rubbed the heel of his hand over an annoying tingle in his side, then drew in a deep breath, trying to clear his nostrils of the distinct hospital smell. He was sure that the smell would be with him for days after.

How many times had his mother been brought to the hospital in the same condition as E-Mail? He tried to count them in his mind, but couldn't. There were so many times, and he was so young when it had first happened that the incidents all seemed to run together.

And how many times had _he_ been either taken to the hospital or dumped in the waiting room with the presumption that someone would find him and treat his wounds? His mother hadn't always been willing to answer questions about how he had been injured.

Spot was no older than four when he was first taken to the emergency room. It was the first of many times that he was told to lie about how he'd been hurt. In the years that followed, Spot was taught a myriad of excuses to give the doctors when he was questioned about his injuries. "_I fell down the stairs. I walked into a door. I was playing by the stove and burned myself. I tripped on the subway platform and fell against a guy with a cigarette_."

The worst were the hospital visits when Spot was older and his father insisted on going with him. Posing as a loving and caring parent, the man would dig his fingers into his son's thin, undernourished arms, forcing him to say, "_I was beat up by a couple of guys because I'm a fuckin' faggot, and I deserved it_." On the occasion that Spot didn't sound convincing enough, he would receive further "parental care" when they returned home.

Spot was sick of hospitals. He'd just spent the last several hours sitting in the same corridor where they were told only a month ago that Mr. H. had died. He took a long, final drag on his cigarette and flicked the butt into the street. He'd decided that he was going to stay all night, if necessary, to make sure that Specs was okay. Spot knew what he was going through. Maybe having someone there who understood could help Specs to get through this.

Spot craned his neck from side to side as he walked back down the corridor. He could feel his vertebrae pop back into place as he stretched his tight muscles. Billy had sent the other police officers away, and the emergency room had become amazingly quiet.

"Your friends are doing okay, and we have all the information that we need," Billy told Skittery. "You and Spot can take off any time you like."

"What about Specs?" Spot asked, coming from behind.

"He's with Dutchy's mom now," Billy replied. "They're speaking with a drug counselor about Dutchy's rehab. Mrs. Schuyler is going to spend the night here, so, when they're finished, I'll have a radio car take Specs home."

"I'm gonna stay and wait for him," Spot said.

"You don't have to do that," Skittery assured him. "I'll make sure that he gets home okay."

"C'mere a minute," Spot said, nudging Skittery to an empty section of the corridor. "Look, Skitts. I don't want to step on your toes or anything. I understand that Specs is your best friend, but I'm the one who knows what he's going through right now. I think that under the circumstances, I can do him more good than you can by holding his hand. Tomorrow you two can go back to being Batman and Robin, but for tonight, let me be his friend, okay?"

Skittery let out a slow breath from between his tightened lips and nodded. "Okay. You're probably right," he said with sad resolve. "But don't you want me to drive you guys home?"

"No, Skitts. We'll be fine. Stop trying to protect him. He doesn't need that tonight. Go home and get some rest. You can take over tomorrow. He's gonna need you then."

"Oh, no, I'm not!" Irish declared with her hands on her hips.

"Don't argue with me," Billy said. "This can't be helped."

"I called _you_ because I didn't want to have to talk with Ma and Da about this. If you take me home now Ma's gonna be at me like some brain-sucking alien, and she won't be satisfied with the Reader's Digest version. I called _you_ because I didn't want to have to go through that."

"I'm sorry, kiddo, but what happened with Dutchy and E-Mail changes things. I have to go back to work right away, and I may not be home for a few days. I'll have a radio car take you back to your house. I promise that you and I will have a nice, long talk as soon as I can get away."

"A police car? You want to send me home in a police car?"

"I told you that I have to go back to work, and I don't have time to drive you home. You'll have to go in a radio car."

"The hell I will! I'm not riding in a damn police car!"

"You're going to do as I tell you to do, and you're gonna watch that mouth of yours. You're beginning to sound like street-trash."

"Stop ordering me around, and don't correct my language! You're not my father!"

"It's a good thing for both of us that I'm not your father, or…"

"Or what?"

"I can drive her home," Skittery volunteered.

"Oh, that's just fine! Go ahead and take his side!" Irish bristled.

"I'm not taking anybody's side, so lose that attitude!" Skittery snarled. "All I did was offer you a ride home!"

"I like you, kid." Billy laughed, raising his hand to exchange a spirited high-five with Skittery. "Anybody who can put my sister in her place is okay with me!"

A muffled growl of frustration ripped from Irish's throat. She stomped away and flopped down onto the bench, folding her arms across her chest.

"Damn, that sister of yours has got a temper," Skittery said, moaning.

"I can hear you, ya know," Irish grumbled. "I'm sitting right here!"

"I know," Skittery snapped. "I wanted you to hear me! Oh, that's real mature. Go ahead and stick your tongue out at me again."

"That's enough!" Billy demanded. "You are going to drive her home, and you are going to keep your mouth shut and go with him!"

"Good!" Irish smirked. "He can drop me off at your place on his way home!"

"Quiet!" Spot shouted. "You're in a God damn hospital, for shit shake. If you're gonna act like a bunch of fifth-graders, then take it outside!"

After several seconds of deafening silence, Peggy leaned over the counter and called over to Spot, "Thank you," then shot a glaring look at Billy.

"Sorry," he mumbled, then took a calming breath and went to sit by Irish. "Look, kiddo, I'm sorry that I ordered you around, okay? I appreciate that you trust me enough to call me when you have a problem, but you have to understand where I'm coming from. You can't stay at my place by yourself. They haven't rented any of the other apartments in the building yet, so you'll be completely alone. It just isn't safe. Besides, I don't understand what your problem is about going home. We have great parents. They love you, and they'd do anything for you."

"I know that Ma and Da are great, Billy. I love them, too, but you're the one I called. There are certain things that I can't talk about to them or anyone else. They just wouldn't understand. I couldn't tell them what you and I talked about tonight, and there's no way they would have let me come here. When they find out that I talked you into bringing me here, I'll be grounded for life."

"Don't you think that you're overreacting just a bit?"

"No, Billy, I don't. They are a lot harder on me than they were on you. I can't get away with half the things you did when you were in high school."

"That a comforting thought," Billy mumbled, his teen years flashing before his eyes.

"Damn-it, Billy. You really were brought home by the police when you were my age. You got into all kinds of trouble. Da always jokes about how he expected that you'd be the one in handcuffs instead of the one making the arrests. You got away with murder, and you know it. All it takes for me to get grounded is for Attila the Nun to send home a note saying that I rolled my eyes at her or something. It isn't fair, Billy."

"I know it isn't fair, kiddo, but there is nothing I can do about this tonight. I'll try and call home tomorrow and see if I can get the folks to ease up on you a bit."

"Truthfully, Billy, I wouldn't call the house for a while if I were you."

"Why not?" Billy asked cautiously.

"Because I don't think that you'll be happy to hear what Ma has to say about you bringing me to a police investigation at a hospital in the worst part of town."

"But you asked me to bring you! No—no, you begged me to bring you!"

"I know, Billy, and I'll tell Ma it was all my fault, but you know what she's going to say."

"Oh, God." Billy groaned. "I can hear her already. _'Have you taken leave of your senses? I don't care if she did beg you to take her; she's only a child. You must be daft to have taken your baby sister into an environment like that! Where did your father and I go wrong? You were such an intelligent child. Heaven knows what could have happened!'_"

"That was pretty good," Irish said, laughing. "You sound just like her."

Billy narrowed his eyes and looked at his sister for a moment, and then his expression changed. He went over to Skittery and tapped him on the shoulder, then gestured for him to follow. "Were you planning on driving back to campus tonight?" Billy asked.

"No. I don't have to be back until Tuesday morning. I was gonna flop with Spot tonight, but I guess I'll go back to my parents' place. Why'd you ask?"

"Do you think that you could put up with my sister for a little longer?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"I hate to ask you this, but would you consider crashing at my place with Irish? I won't let her stay there alone, so you'd really be helping me out of a jam if you stayed with her."

"Let me get this straight, Billy. You want me to stay with your sister—alone—at your apartment?"

"Uh huh."

"As in me and her—alone—with nobody else around?"

"What? Are you afraid of the dark, or something?"

"No. I'm jut surprised, is all. You seem like you're pretty protective of Irish. I wouldn't think that you'd let her stay at your place with a guy."

"You're not just any guy," Billy said, patting him on the back. "Irish told me all about you. She trusts you and she likes you, and I trust her judgment. Besides, I saw you and Specs in action that day at the pawnshop. I know that you won't let anything happen to her."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I wouldn't have asked you if I wasn't."

"Well, if it's okay with Irish…."

"Bill?" Peggy asked as she watched Irish and Skittery get on the elevator. "Are you sure that it's a good idea to let Skittery stay alone with your sister? He seems like a nice guy and all, but…"

"But what?"

"But he's hot! You just sent your little sister off to your apartment to spend the night alone with a hot college guy. Are you crazy?"

"Don't worry." Billy laughed. "Irish is perfectly safe with Skittery."

"And why is that?"

"He's gay, babe. Most of my sister's friends are gay. There is nothing Irish has that Skittery could possibly want."

* * *

Spot remained motionless as he lay in his sleeping bag staring at the ceiling. He focused on a faded bit of crape paper streamer that was taped to one of the beams. It looked as though it had been there since he was a student, and he wondered for a moment if it actually had.

He thought back to that night almost a year ago when he and Specs were summoned to the hospital. They both stood angry and helpless as the doctor announced the little boy's time of death. They each knew what the other was thinking. They both wanted to kill the child's mother. She was shackled to a gurney in the next cubicle screaming about her rights and being more concerned with the fact that she needed a fix than with the death of her child. The only thing that kept Spot from killing the woman was hearing his partner say the words aloud. He knew without a doubt that if he didn't get Specs out of there he would actually kill her.

That was the night that they ended their partnership. Neither wanted the break-up, but it became amazingly clear what they needed to do. Specs swore on his life that he would do everything in his power to stop the seemingly endless flow of narcotics that was taking over their city. He wasn't a fool. He knew that he couldn't stop it, but that wasn't going to keep him from trying. He owed it to Dutchy, and he owed it to the little boy.

Spot had also made a decision that night. He promised himself that he would do everything in his power to keep another child from being hurt. He owed it to the little boy, and he owed it to himself. He would rather die than allow another child to be abused, victimized, or killed.

Agreeing that they each needed to follow their own path was one of the toughest things that either Specs or Spot had ever done. They would always be partners, and they would always be brothers, but that night and that child had changed the course of their lives.

Spot was thankful that the gym was so quiet. It made him relatively sure that he hadn't cried-out in his sleep. It had been almost a year since he'd dreamed about the hospital. He'd hoped that the dreams that plagued him were gone for good. At least this dream wasn't as bad as the others. This one wasn't about when he was a child. This was about Dutchy and E-Mail and Itey. It was about the bond that had formed between him and Specs. A bond that, to this day, remained unshakeable. He sighed and shifted slightly to massage an annoying tingle in his side.

"Are you okay, Spot?" Mush whispered, turning inside of their sleeping bag and laying an arm across Spot's chest.

"Why are you still awake, Mushy?" Spot asked, pulling him closer so that Mush's face was nuzzled into his neck.

"You were making noises in your sleep. You sounded like my daughter when she has a nightmare… You were dreaming about the hospital again, weren't you?"

Spot pulled away slightly and looked at Mush. "What? Are you a mind reader, or something? Since when can you tell what someone is dreaming?"

"This isn't the first time we've slept together, you know. We were friends for a lot of years before we got together. Remember all those nights we slept in the backyard in my dad's old camping tent? You had a lot of bad dreams back then, and you used to cry in your sleep about the hospital."

"Is that so?" Spot said pulling Mush close again. The feel of his tight, dark curls against Spot's cheek was both comforting and arousing. "How come you never mentioned this before now?"

"Because bad-ass Spot Conlon would never admit to having nightmares, but I could always tell when you were having _that_ dream. You'd wake up fast with your fists clenched like you were going to fight someone. Then, after a few seconds, when you realized where you were, you'd start rubbing that scar on your side." Mush reached up under Spot's shirt and ran his thumb over the still jagged skin.

Spot's body tensed and he attempted to pull away, but Mush's large hand held him still.

"It's okay, Spot," Mush whispered. "It's okay."

Spot remained tense for a few long moments, and then relaxed as Mush's warm fingers moved easily down his side. "You're wishing you had a cigarette, too, aren't you, Spot?"

"What are those, crystal balls you've got zipped inside those jeans?"

"Damn-it, Spot!" Jack shouted from across the room. He tossed a shoe, deliberately missing the couple by several feet. "Will you shut the fuck up and go to sleep already!"

"You haven't changed all that much since we were kids," Mush whispered, avoiding the wrath of Jack and his other shoe. "Whenever you had that dream, you'd always go and have a cigarette to calm your nerves. Then you'd take that Zippo lighter of yours and twirl it over your knuckles while you smoked. I was watching you just now, and you were moving your fingers just like you did when you had that lighter."

"I'm beginning to wonder which one of us is the detective, Mushy. I think that maybe you missed your calling."

"Nah, I could never do what you do. If I had to see all the things that you see every day, I'd be more screwed up than I am now."

"Everybody's got baggage, Mushy. You just carried yours around by yourself for too long. But you and me are gonna go and see that shrink friend of Dutchy's and we're gonna work through all of this. Your stuff and my stuff."

"It was all that talk about Dutchy and E-Mail and Itey in the hospital that brought it back, wasn't it?"

"I suppose." Spot sighed and closed his eyes, now basking in the feel of Mush's calloused hands against his skin. "But the past can't hurt us anymore, Mushy. We've got the rest of our lives to look forward to."

"Do you think that we can do it, Spot? Do you really think that we can make this work?"

"Sure we can, Mushy," Spot said, placing a kiss on top of the wiry curls that he'd missed so much. "If you decide that being together is what you really want, then we'll make it work."

"It is what I want."

"Then we'll make it work… Unless…"

"Unless what?" Mush asked, his voice sounding noticeable shaken.

"What about Katie? Suppose that kid of yours doesn't like me. We can't force her to like me, you know."

"You've got nothing to worry about, Spot. She's gonna love you. Little kids always loved you. It's adults that think you're a pain in the ass."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, shut it. You know that I'm right. Besides, I'm the one that has to be worried—not you. That kid is so much like you that it's almost creepy. That temper of hers and the way she glares at me when she's angry is uncanny. I half expect her to flip me off and shout at me with a Brooklyn accent when I send her to her room for a time-out. It's like you've been haunting me for the last three years."

"She sounds like a great kid." Spot grinned.

"Yeah, she is," Mush said, nestling into Spot. "Like I said, I'm the one who has to worry. You'll take one look at that smile of hers and she'll have you wrapped around her little finger. Then the two of you are going to gang up on me whenever you can."

"Sounds wonderful," Spot said, enjoying the strange sensation warming his chest.

"Yeah," Mush whispered sleepily. "It does."

END Chapter 25

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly be appreciated.

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**A/N: **There is a fabulous new writer, here at F.F. (and the Refuge). Her p/n is cymbalism. All of her work is wonderful, but you really must check out her one-shot "As to Understand." It is without a doubt one of the best slash works, and positively the best Javid, I've encountered. Do yourself a favor and read **"As to Understand."**


	26. Someone to Watch Over Me

**Disclaimer**:

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge, Disney owns them.

I do not own the character Saiorse "Irish" Callan. Her creator Lady of Tir Na Nog, who has graciously offered the use of "Irish" as a character in this story, owns her.

I am making no money from this story.

* * *

**Warning**: 

Rated M for Slash, Sexual Situations, and Adult Language.

* * *

**A/N:**

Beta credit for this chapter goes to the wonderfully patient, Tis a Tale Worth Telling. She is a multitalented writer posted at this site. Please check out her stories. Among my favorites are _The Day Spot Lost His Marbles_ and _Angry Kid With No Money_.

* * *

Chapter 26 – Someone to Watch Over Me 

"So when did you talk to your brother about me?" Skittery asked as he drove from the hospital parking lot.

Irish tensed at the question. Her mouth went suddenly dry and she made a mental note to kill Billy for not informing her that he'd spoken to Skittery. "What do you mean?" she asked guardedly.

"Billy said that you told him about me." Skittery glanced in her direction and raised an eyebrow. "He said that you like me and that you think I'm a nice guy."

"Uh-huh."

"So what did you tell him?" Skittery asked, one side of his mouth curled into a distinctive smirk.

"I told him that I like you—and that I think you're a nice guy."

Irish studied the expression on Skittery's face as she waited for him to reply. The smirk had disappeared and his jaw hung slightly open as he stared at the road ahead. He didn't seem angry or annoyed, so she figured that his discussion with Billy had nothing to do with the conversation he'd had with Specs that night at the diner. The smug expression he'd had just moments before was replaced with something akin to frustration.

Skittery could see Irish watching him out of the corner of his eye. He kept his focus straight ahead and remained silent trying to ignore her stare. Finally, he glanced at Irish, and then looked back at the road, snapping, "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Irish said apologetically. She followed Skittery's lead of looking out at the road ahead.

After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence, the corners of Irish's mouth began to turn up. Suddenly, everything became abundantly clear. "Ah-ha! You thought I told Billy that I _like_ you not that I like you." Irish snickered.

Skittery sneered at her from across the seat, but made no attempt to refute her allegation.

"I'm surprised that you don't need help carrying around that ego of yours."

"Well, maybe you didn't tell him that you _like_ me, but you do, so don't even bother denying it."

"I'm not denying it." Irish grinned, casting him a sideways glance. "You don't think that I go around making out with every egotist that comes along, do you?"

A broad smile filled Skittery's face and Irish felt her stomach muscles tighten. When Skittery looked at her like that, his entire face seemed to smile. The grin was slightly crooked and seemed to carry through into his dark eyes.

"Actually, no, I don't think that you go around making out with every egotist that comes along." Skittery laughed, weaving his fingers through hers and rubbing the back of her hand gently with his thumb.

Billy's apartment was in one of the newly renovated warehouses on the south side of town. It wasn't even close to being a luxury building, but the rooms were modern and the layout was attractive. The main living space was one large square with an open kitchen, dining area, and living room, with a decent sized bedroom and bathroom off to the side. There wasn't a lot of furniture in the living room—just a coffee table, a large couch, and two end tables with lamps—but they faced an impressive home entertainment unit with a large television, a VCR, and a drop-dead stereo system.

"This is a great apartment," Skittery said as he locked the door behind him. "I'd kill to have a place like this."

"Billy moved in here about four months ago. His old apartment was barely fit for human inhabitance. I'm guessing that his new girlfriend has something to do with getting this place. I can't picture him bringing a girl like Peggy back to that dump he used to live in."

"Damn! Will you look at this stereo and music collection? I've never seen so many records and cassettes."

"That entertainment center was the only decent thing in his old place," Irish said as she fumbled around in the refrigerator. "Billy's always loved music. He was in a band when he was in high school. You should hear him play guitar. He rocks!"

Skittery was in awe as he flipped through the long row of records. He felt like he'd died and gone to music heaven. "Damn, I thought Itey had a great music collection, but this beats the hell out of his."

"Go ahead and play something if you like. Billy won't mind, and you can't disturb the neighbors because there aren't any."

"I like your brother," Skittery said, sliding an album from its jacket and placing it carefully on the turntable. "Billy's a really cool guy."

"He likes you, too, or he wouldn't have wanted you to stay here with me."

"Yeah, I still don't get it. If I was him, I sure wouldn't want my sister to spend the night alone with some guy."

"Well, Billy's a good judge of character. Besides, it's not like I'd have to come here to do something."

"Maybe not, but I wouldn't go inviting trouble by letting some guy stay with you. Especially one as good looking and irresistible as me." Skittery chuckled.

"Okay, Fabio." Irish laughed, handing him a plate with a sandwich and a bottle of beer. "When you've finished feeding your ego, you can feed your stomach. I made you ham and American cheese on white bread with brown mustard, just the way you like it."

"What are you, psychic? How'd you know what I like?"

"It's my job, remember? This is what you ordered the last time you had lunch at the diner, but this time I substituted a bottle of beer for the Coke. I thought you'd like this better."

"You thought right."

Irish brought her own sandwich and beer to the coffee table and curled up on the couch. "You must be starved. You haven't eaten anything since before the party."

"Yeah, I guess I was a little too busy to think about food."

"Well, at least everything turned out okay."

"Everyone survived, anyway. But E-Mail and Dutchy still have a long way to go. It sure as hell isn't going to be easy on either of them."

"Do you think that they'll be sent to the same place for rehab?"

"It's not likely. They fed off each other's habit, so they'll probably need to be separated for a long time. Besides, it's not like they were ever real friends. The only thing they actually had in common was coke. Those jackasses are lucky that Itey held off celebrating his birthday until Reggie came home. If my parents hadn't forced E-Mail to come to the party last night, he and Dutchy could have been off by themselves someplace when they OD'd. God knows what would have happened."

"I don't even want to think about it," Irish said, visibly shuddering. "It's too awful."

"I doubt that anyone will ever forget Itey's eighteenth birthday."

"Well, I sure won't."

"I really am sorry about what happened tonight," Skittery said, moving Irish's hair back, away from her face. "You know—about Spot barging in on us like that."

"Do you mean that you're sorry that we were interrupted, or are you sorry that we got caught?"

"Both, actually. But what I meant to say is that I'm really sorry I embarrassed you."

"That wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, it was. I was acting like some dunked-up frat-boy at his first kegger. I'm not saying that it wasn't great, but trying to seduce you in my parents' utility room with all of your friends on the other side of the door wasn't one of my finest moments."

"You didn't hear me complaining. I could have left any time I wanted, but…"

"But what?" Skittery asked, giving Irish the smile that made her stomach tighten.

Irish didn't answer. She took a sip of beer and averted her eyes to whisk some imaginary sandwich crumbs from her shirt.

"But you didn't want to?"

"No," Irish said, fidgeting with a throw pillow from the couch. "No, I didn't."

Skittery took the pillow from her lap and tossed it aside. "In that case, let's see if we can pick up where we left off."

This time there were no thoughts of Sister Mary and her virginity speech. The only sounds Irish heard were her own quick gasps for air and the soft whisper of her name between fervent kisses. It wasn't long before she felt the physical effects of Skittery's excitement growing and instinctively moved her body against it. A warm flush covered Irish's body and she raised her hips and pressed back against his. He groaned deeply into her neck and his hot breath washed over her. Then, in a move that shocked even her, she reached down and cupped him in her hand.

"That's enough!" Skittery grunted, pulling away and righting himself back against the couch."

"What's the matter? I thought you wanted to—"

"What I _want_ is for you to go the hell into the other room and let me try to get some sleep!"

"Um… Okay," Irish mumbled, trying to hide her confusion and embarrassment as she moved from the couch.

Skittery's face looked hard and angry, and she quickly turned away to avoid his icy stare.

His body remained tense as he listened to Irish opening and closing doors in the other room.

"Why the hell doesn't she just go to sleep already?" he mumbled aloud.

Irish cringed when she returned to the living room and saw the look on Skittery's face. Her embarrassment quickly turned to anger when she sensed the venom behind the glare. "I brought you a blanket and a pillow, and I left a disposable razor and a new toothbrush on the bathroom sink. Feel free to use the razor to slit your throat, but please do me a favor and lean over the bathtub when you bleed-out. I don't want to have to clean up your mess!"

"Look, Irish, I—"

"If you want another blanket, there's one in the hall closet on the top shelf. I'm sorry that I kept you up past your bedtime!" she growled, throwing the blanket and pillow in his face.

"Irish, wait, I—"

"No, Skittery, you're right," Irish spoke with her chin raised high and her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's late and I really should, um, how did you put it? Ah, yes, _go the hell into the other room and let you try and get some sleep!_"

"I didn't mean that like it sounded." Skittery grabbed her by the wrist as she tried to storm away.

"That's okay." She glared down at him. "I got your message _loud and clear_."

"Damn-it, sit down and let me explain!" He yanked her arm until she flopped down onto the couch. "Irish, I didn't mean that I _want_ you to go into the other room, but I think that maybe you should. I'm tired and my resistance to you is low, and if you stay… If you stay, Irish…"

"If I stay, what?" she challenged.

"Damn-it, I want you, and if we kept on going like that I wasn't going to be satisfied with just making out. Can't you understand that?"

"Contrary to what you may think, I'm not a moron, and I understand completely." The look in Skittery's eyes and her own boldness made her stomach tighten and her insides flutter, but she made no attempt to move away.

"Irish, please," he murmured, running his fingers along the side of her face. "You're playing with fire, here."

Skittery's words made the ache in Irish's body increase dramatically. His touch felt almost magnetic, and she closed her eyes, leaning her cheek into his hand. A rush ran through Skittery's body at the feel of her warm skin against his fingers. When Irish nuzzled her face against his palm, Skittery drew in a breath as tightness gripped both his chest and his jeans simultaneously. He leaned forward and, lifting her chin, touched his lips to hers.

He pulled away slightly and his eyes searched her face. "Irish, please, this isn't a game. Do you know what you're doing?"

"I'm not an idiot and I'm not a child. I'm capable of making my own decisions without your permission or anyone else's."

"Damn, you're strong-willed."

"Okay, Skittery, I give up," Irish said, tossing up her hands in frustration. "I don't have the strength or the patience for this right now. I'm tired of fighting, and I'm going to sleep. You can stay up and watch television, or read, or jump out the window for all I care, but I refuse—"

"Be quiet." Skittery smiled, putting a finger over her mouth. "Don't you realize that being strong-willed is one of the things I like best about you? There's nothing better than a beautiful woman who's not afraid to speak her mind." His eyes followed the path of his finger as it traced the outline of Irish's mouth. "You excite the hell out of me," he said, moving his gaze from her mouth directly to her eyes.

The kiss was soft and gentle, but soon turned deeper and more urgent. His tongue moved easily through her parted lips, embracing every texture it encountered. When his mouth had explored every part of hers, it moved hungrily to her jaw. His hot, moist breath tickled her neck and the hairs on her nape tingled with excitement. The smoothness of her skin and the feel of her long, straight hair against his cheek coaxed a deep, guttural groan from his throat.

Irish shuddered as Skittery's hand caressed her breast through the fabric of her clothing and moved swiftly to the buttons on her shirt. She raised herself from the couch to help him rid her of the confining garments then Skittery quickly pulled his tee over his head and tossed it to the floor. The feel of his warm skin against hers and the contrast to the cool air around them felt wonderful. His hands, and mouth, and body moved expertly across hers, and she wondered for a moment how knew every spot on her body that ached for his touch. All cognitive thought vanished as she felt her body writhing against his.

"Do you want to do this here or move into the bedroom?" Skittery breathed. His voice was deep and strained as he pressed his hips against hers.

"I don't know," she answered breathlessly. "What's the difference?"

"What?"

"Well, you have done this before, right?"

"Of course I've done this before."

"Well, then, you tell me. Which one is better?"

Skittery's eyes went wide when he realized that Irish wasn't talking about the comfort of the couch versus the bed. "Irish, is this your first time?"

"Uh-huh."

Skittery sat up and slumped against the back of the couch. He shifted uncomfortably as he tried to ignore the intense feeling between his legs. He leaned his head back and rubbed his hands over his face as the reality of the situation sank in.

"What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong, but you should have told me that this was your first time."

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters! This is your first time, damn-it! Your first time should be special, and not like this. It should be with someone you really care about and with someone who really cares about you."

Irish felt like she'd been punched in the stomach as Skittery's words rang in her ears. She cared about him. She cared about him more than she ever thought she'd care about anyone, and she thought that he cared about her, too. The realization that he _didn't_ was devastating. To him, she was just another high school kid at his brother's birthday party. If it wasn't her in that utility room with him it would have been anyone else who was willing to go. If Billy hadn't asked him to baby-sit her, he'd be with someone else right now.

Irish didn't know if it was from hurt, anger, or embarrassment, but she felt her tears beginning to form, and she damn well wasn't going to humiliate herself further by letting him see her cry. She pulled the blanket from under her and wrapped herself inside. She tried to stand, but stumbled as her feet tangled in the blanket.

"Irish, I—"

Irish headed for the bedroom, knocking an ashtray and lamp off of the table as she yanked the end of the blanket from under Skittery.

"Will you wait a minute!" Skittery pleaded, grabbing her arm.

Irish spun around and wrenched her arm from his grasp. "Back off!" she shouted, turning away again.

"Look, there's no reason to get upset about this."

"No reason to get upset?" Irish turned on her heel and kicked the end of the blanket out of her way as she stepped forward. Skittery took an instinctive step back as she closed the distance between them. "How dare you think that I would even consider doing something like this if I didn't have feelings for you!"

"Will you listen to me? I—"

"No, you listen! What? Do you think that I do this sort of thing all the time? I'm not some two-bit whore willing to give a ride to the first fella that comes along, you know!"

"C'mon, Irish. I never said… I never even thought—"

"I know what you thought, but don't be sorry. I'm the one that's sorry. I was daft enough to think I was a more than just some high school kid who was willing to let you get into her knickers. I must have been off my nut not to realize that this was a case of _any port in a storm_. And will you put on some damn pants! You look ridiculous standing there like that!"

"That's enough!" Skittery growled, shaking her by the shoulders.

"Get your hands off of me!" she shouted, raising her right arm high and bringing her fist down hard against his sternum.

"Jesus," he grunted, letting go of her shoulders and rubbing his chest.

A smirk appeared on Irish's face when she realized that the punch had made a formidable impact.

When Skittery saw the smirk he became furious and grabbed her by both wrists. "That's enough, I said! Now, you are gonna shut that big mouth of yours and listen to me! I never thought you were some two-bit whore, and you can't blame me for everything that happened here tonight. I gave you every opportunity to go into that bedroom and go to sleep. And for the record, I don't sleep with whores, and I don't go around trying to pick up random high school girls to screw. I was honest with you, Irish, but you weren't honest with me."

"When wasn't I honest with you?"

"You should have told me that this was your first time. That's a big deal, and it should be special."

Irish's eyes began to well up again at the reminder that this was just a fling to Skittery.

"Damn," Skittery moaned. "What did I do now?"

"Nothing." Irish groaned and wrapped herself tighter inside the blanket. "You didn't do anything. It was all me. I didn't realize that this was a casual thing to you," she said, wiping her eyes. "God, I feel like a bloody fool."

"Is that what this is all about?" Skittery asked as his body relaxed and a gentle smile crossed his face. "Oh, baby, no," he said, pulling her against him and putting his arms around her. "This isn't like that." He swayed gently to comfort her. "There is nothing casual about you and me."

"Then why did you—I mean, why wouldn't you?"

"C'mere," he said, sitting her down on the couch and facing her. "That was a big bomb you dropped on me tonight. You took me by surprise, is all. I never thought that you were easy, but I didn't expect you to tell me that this was your first time, either. This is a big step in your life, and you just don't make a decision like that without thinking about it first. You weren't being fair to either of us."

"It was my decision to make, and I had thought about it. I'm not a child, you know."

"No, you're not a child, and _no,_ it isn't only your decision to make. It's ours. Deciding if you're ready or not to take this step is totally up to you, but choosing to have that happen here tonight with me should have been a decision for both of us to make. Being someone's first is a big deal, too, Irish. There is a lot of responsibility that goes along with that. To be honest, I've never been anyone's first."

Irish' jaw dropped and her eyes widened.

"Does that surprise you?"

"Yeah, it does. I figured that you and some cheerleader climbed into the back of your car or something like they do in the movies and that you were both doing it for the first time."

"It was in the back seat of a car, alright, but it wasn't my car—it was hers, and it sure wasn't like in the movies. Well, not like in any movies that I'd want you to see, but she was a cheerleader. It was my senior year at Pulitzer, and I was away at the college for a recruiting weekend. After meeting some of the faculty and getting a tour of the campus, the team invited me to a private party. It was awesome! There was a live band, great food, and more booze than I'd ever seen in one place. And there were more pretty girls than I'd ever seen in one place, as well. I was in my glory when this drop-dead-gorgeous cheerleader hooked-on to me.

"Before I knew it, we were outside in the back seat of her car. I'm not gonna lie and tell you that the sex wasn't great, because it was. What I lacked in experience, she made up for. When it was over, she simply pulled her skirt back down like nothing had happened and left me breathing heavy alone in her car.

"When I finally pulled myself together, I went back inside and found that she'd latched-on to another guy. I pulled her aside to ask her what was going on and she laughed. She told me that our _bump_ in the car was simply her way of supporting the team. I can still remember her exact words. '_Look, kid, I was just trying to show you what a good time you'll have if you decide to come to this school. It was nothing personal_.'

"There I was thinking that I was the hottest seventeen-year-old alive because some twenty-one-year-old college cheerleader wanted me. I felt like such a moron that I packed my stuff and came home that night."

"But isn't that what you guys live for? I've always heard that having great sex with a gorgeous girl and no strings attached is what guys dream about."

"What idiot high school guy told you that?"

"All of them," Irish replied, rolling her eyes.

"It figures. I would have told you the same thing back then, but nobody wants to feel like a fool—especially their first time. I can't say that I haven't had a one-night stand here and there, because I have. But that recruiting weekend was the only time I've ever done it with someone that I didn't get to know first."

"God, I'm such an eejit." Irish groaned, pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her face into the blanket.

"You are not an idiot—you're fantastic. And don't think for one minute that I don't care about you. I care more than you know. More than I've ever cared for anyone. You've got more fire and spunk than any three women I've ever met. You've got a hot temper, a stubborn streak, you infuriate me to the point of insanity, and I can't get enough of you. So if you still want to do this…"

Irish's jaw dropped slightly open, but she didn't speak.

"It's okay," Skittery said. "We don't have to. I'm just saying—"

"No, I want to, but you said that you didn't want to be anyone's first."

"No, what I said was that being someone's first is a big responsibility. I never wanted that before now, but if you are sure that you're ready, then so am I. I want your first time to be with me. So, are you sure?"

"Yes, Skittery, I am."

"Okay," he said, getting to his feet and pulling her with him. "But if we're going to do this, then we're going to do it right." He took the blanket from around her and tossed it onto the couch, then led her by the hand into the bedroom.

The frenzied passion that had gripped the couple earlier faded as deeper sensations and emotions engulfed them. Every nerve in Irish's body came alive under the touch of Skittery's gentle hands. Each kiss, each touch, and each movement brought them to heightened passion.

Eventually, Skittery pulled away slightly and drew in several long and calming breaths. "Wait here," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'll be right back."

Skittery went into the bathroom and began fumbling through the medicine cabinet.

"Are you alright in there?" Irish called out.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered. "Give me a minute."

When Skittery emerged from the bathroom, his face was serious and his eyebrows were pulled tightly together. He went directly to Billy's nightstand and began rummaging through the drawer.

"What are you doing?" Irish insisted.

A look of relief covered Skittery's face, and he held up his hand. In-between his index and middle fingers he held a foil condom packet.

"I didn't want to wait until the last minute to find this," Skittery said, placing the packet on the nightstand and lying back down next to Irish. "Like I said, we're going to do this right, and that includes not taking any stupid chances."

Irish marveled at the feel of his body as she ran her hands along his shoulders and back. No one would ever suspect that the seemingly thin and lanky boy that shot hoops for hours in his parents' driveway was, in reality, an amazingly toned and chiseled athlete. His skin was smooth and taut and held tightly to the hard muscles underneath.

She moved her hand easily from the wide shoulders that sat atop his lean and muscled chest, and her stomach quivered when she felt the subtle ripples of his abdomen. Her exploration faltered for a moment and she could feel her face redden when her hand reached the path of hair that trailed from his navel. She heard him chuckle softly when her hand quickly retreated back to his abdomen and she buried her face into his chest.

"It's okay," he whispered, gently stroking her hair. She mustered the courage to look up at his face, and was relieved to see the gentle smile across his lips. "It's okay," he assured her, meeting her eyes. "You don't have to—"

His words cut off when her hand moved effortlessly to its original destination. He hissed in a quick gasp of air and threw back his head as his eyelids closed tight, then swallowed hard to stifle the low growl escaping his throat. His hands gripped the sheets to steady himself when his hips bucked forward, then grabbed her wrist to keep her hand from moving.

"What is it?" Irish asked, feeling slightly panicked. "Am I doing something wrong?"

"God, no," he said, snorting and gently pulling her hand from around him. "You are doing everything right. Too right. If you keep that up, it will be all over right here."

"Oh. . . . Oh! I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said, pulling her tight against his chest and kissing her temple. "Irish, are you sure that you want to do this? If you don't, it's okay, but you have to tell me now."

"Yes, I'm sure," she answered, though her voice wavered just a bit. Irish felt a wave of apprehension when Skittery reached across her for the condom. She watched as his long, thin fingers tore open the foil packet, but averted her eyes while he prepared.

"You're nervous," he said, lying back down next to her.

"No, I'm not," she squeaked.

"Liar." He laughed. "It's okay to be nervous. You're supposed to be." He moved closer—felt her body tense against his. "I know you're scared," he said, pushing her hair back from her face, "but you don't need to be. I'm not going to do anything that you don't want me to do. Were gonna take this nice and slow, okay?"

Irish closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, mustering a faint smile.

Skittery kissed her face, her neck, and her throat as he positioned himself. When he moved forward, Irish gasped and clenched her fingers around his biceps.

"Irish, look at me," he said, struggling to keep his body still. "You've got to relax, baby. If you don't, this isn't going to work."

She stared into his dark eyes, and soon her breathing matched his and their bodies moved together in prefect rhythm. Skittery carefully paced himself as he studied her face. With her head thrust back against the pillow, her eyelids fluttered closed and audible sighs and soft murmurs passed breathlessly through her lips. It wasn't until her body shuddered beneath him and her nails dug into his shoulders that he permitted his own relief.

* * *

Itey yawned as he crawled out of his sleeping bag. He would rather have pulled it over his head and gone back to sleep, but the beer he'd consumed throughout the night was driving him to the bathroom. He shuffled across the gym and noticed that his brother's sleeping bag was empty. As his eyes adjusted to the bright locker room lights, Itey wasn't surprised to see his brother leaning against a locker with his legs stretched out on one of the benches.

"What are you still doing up?" Itey asked, situating himself in front of the urinal.

Skittery took a long drag on his cigarette and shrugged.

"When did you start smoking?"

"Gee, I'm sorry you caught me smoking in the boys' room, Brother Joseph. Does this mean that you're gonna give me detention?"

"What to you expect me to do, keep you after school? How much later can I keep you? It's already, like, five in the morning." Itey trudged to the sink, pumped some of the industrial liquid soap into his hand, and turned on the faucet.

Skittery studied his brother as he yawned and snorted and then dried his hands on his tee shirt.

"Can I ask you something, Itey?"

"You can ask me anything you want," Itey said, shoving his brother's legs off of the bench and sitting down beside him.

"If Reggie came to you tomorrow and told you that she was going to quit being a nun, what would you do?"

"That's never going to happen."

"Just answer the question, okay?"

"I'd support her however I could, like I always have."

"Jesus Christ, Itey, you know what I mean. What would you do? Would you quit being a brother and try and get her back again?"

"First of all, knock off the Jesus Christ remarks. In my business, we frown on that sort of thing."

"Sorry… But what would you do? Would you quit, too?"

"I can't answer that question for a lot of reasons, Skitts. First of all, I didn't become a brother because Reggie is a nun. I'm not saying that seeing her as happy as she is living a life of service didn't have an effect on my decision. I thought that maybe I could experience some of the same joy that she has."

"Don't you ever want to go back to the way you were when you were kids? Don't you ever get the urge to take her in your arms and make love to her underneath the stars?"

"Are you drunk?"

Skittery rolled his eyes and held up the can of Coke he was nursing. ""C'mon, and answer the question already."

"I can't answer that question. I've taken a vow of celibacy, remember?"

"Jut because you don't do it doesn't mean that you can't think about it."

"Yes, it does. It's called having impure thoughts and it's a sin."

"Jesus—I mean, damn, those rules are strict. They don't even let you think about it?"

"That's one of the sacrifices and one of the commitments I made when I joined the brotherhood. Sacrifice and penance are a way of bringing you closer to God."

"I think that you should have had my agent represent you when you sighed up with this team." Skittery laughed. "Cal could have gotten you off with just promising not to eat meat on Friday or something."

"I wish," Itey said, chuckling.

"Do you still love her?"

"I'm always going to love her, Skitts. Nothing can change that, but I can't love her the way you're talking about."

"If you love her, and you are around her all the time, how can you not think about her like that?"

"I pray… a lot!"

"If being around Reggie is that hard on you, why did you come back to Pulitzer? You could have explained the situation to whoever is in charge of you. I'm sure that they could have found another school that needed your help."

"Skitts, nobody sent me here; I asked to come. I knew that the archdiocese had sold the school and it would no longer be a religious institution, but things in the church aren't like in the old days. Reggie's order doesn't require that the sisters work expressly for the church. They're permitted to do lay work. That's why I wasn't surprised to hear that she and Sister Mary had decided to stay behind and continue teaching at Pulitzer. When Reggie wrote me that the school was looking for a dean of students, I asked to be transferred here. The church is right next door, so I split my work between there and the school."

"But why make it so hard on yourself?"

"Life isn't always easy, Skitts, or haven't you figured that out yet? We face challenges every day. Don't forget that Reggie was not only my girlfriend—she was, and always will be, my best friend. We work well together. We think alike and enjoy each other's company. I'm glad that I made the decision to come back."

"So, all-in-all, it's a pretty good arrangement, except for the battling the impure thoughts thing?"

"That's a crude way of putting it, but yes."

"Itey?"

"Yeah, Skitts?"

"I want to ask you something else, but I want to ask my brother Itey, and not Brother Joseph."

"Skitts, I am Brother Joseph, and I am your brother. The two are inseparable."

"Damn-it, Itey, this is important."

"Okay." Itey sighed. "What's your question?"

"Well, I know that everyone always figured that you and Reg would get married, and we were all surprised when things turned out the way they did. I know that you were pretty broken up when you found out that she'd decided to join the convent. That's why you and Spot snuck out in the middle of the night and drove twenty miles to the nearest Marine recruiting office before Ma could find out and stop you."

"That wasn't the only reason I joined the Corps."

"Try telling that to someone who believes you. Anyway, my question is, do you think that the idea of joining the brotherhood would have occurred to you if Reggie hadn't taken vows? I mean, suppose that she had just decided that she didn't want to get married. If she'd decided to stay single and didn't make a commitment to remain celibate, do you think that you would have taken that vow anyway?"

"Are you asking if I only agreed to a life of celibacy because she did?"

"Look, Itey. As far as I know, you never wanted anyone but Reggie. You spent all those years away while you were in the corps even after she took her final vows, and you still never moved on. Hey, you're not gay are you?" Skittery chuckled, nudging him in the shoulder.

"No, Skittery, I'm not gay."

"Are you a virgin?"

"No, I'm not, but I never found anyone else that I wanted to have a permanent relationship with."

"I don't know how you do it, Itey. Seriously. I mean, if you lost your favorite pair of shoes, you wouldn't stop walking. I'm not saying that you would settle for the first pair of Reeboks that came along, but you could go shopping and try on a few different styles. You may not find any shoes that are as good as the ones you lost. They may not make you feel great, but it could still be good. Honestly, Itey, I don't know how you do it. I know I sure couldn't."

"I guess that maybe 'shoes' are more important to you than they are to me. My feet may get cold every now and again, but the monk's sandals are working out okay."

"Look, kid, I'm not implying that you aren't great at what you do. I'm just wondering if you only agreed to this life and the celibacy thing because you knew there was no chance with Reggie. Like, if you couldn't have her, then why bother to have anyone?"

"I don't know, Skitts. I honestly don't know. I remember praying for God to make Reggie change her mind when she first went into the convent. I prayed the entire two years while she did her novitiate. I stopped talking to God for a long time after she took her final vows. In a way, I blamed God for her leaving me."

"I hear that. God and I weren't on speaking terms for a long time."

"I know. It took a long time for me to understand and to accept that she didn't leave me—she went to God."

"You're still in love with her, aren't you, Itey?"

Itey stared at Skittery for a long moment. His mouth opened and closed, but he didn't answer. He looked away and stared at the floor.

Skittery put his arm around his brother and rested his chin in the thick mass of black curls. "It's okay, little brother," Skittery said, kissing him on top of the head. "I know just how you feel."

END Chapter 26

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

* * *

**A/N:**

To those of you who feel slash deprived, I do apologize. Skittery, however, was in need of some good lovin'. Now that Skittery has been relieved, be assured that the slash will again return to this story.

Thanks to cymbalism who reminded me that there are two sides to every love scene. Her chaptered story _Sharps & Flats_ is one of my favorites and her _As to Understand_ is without a doubt one of the best slash works, and positively the best Javid, I've encountered. Do yourself a favor and read her work.

Frisky Wallabee has made me, and countless other readers deliriously happy by continuing with her chaptered story _Don't Get Me Wrong_. Her work, along with her Wonder Twins counterpart, pennylayne, can be found here at this site and at their Wonder Twins LJ. They are fantastic!


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